Fight Your Way Out
by writergirl2003
Summary: Most are born into a home where they can feel safe, and loved. But Amber Von Tussle was not like most others, and she learned it the hard way.
1. Home

**Okay, this is a new full-length story I'm starting. I was getting stir-crazy with nothing to write, and I thought this up. It's really different from A Smile Like Yours, and pretty much anything else I've ever done. This is just a short preview, just to see how you guys feel about it so far. I'll update soon!**

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The day Chip moved into the house she shared with her mother, Amber wasn't even aware of it. She'd been at school most of the day, and spent the rest of the afternoon at the show, and rehearsing. To tell the truth, she hadn't even realized that her mother had been dating anyone. Velma had never opened up to Amber about her personal life, except to say that she'd screwed her way through the Miss Baltimore Crabs pageant, though that wasn't a secret. Everyone in Baltimore, probably even Maryland, knew that.

And so when Amber returned home from rehearsal that one particular afternoon, she pushed the front door open and the toe of her shoe hit something that she knew had never been there before. It was a suitcase. She'd pushed her way inside, and glanced around. The room was scattered with things she'd never seen before; clothes, furniture. It smelled differently, as well. It no longer reeked of her mother's perfume, and instead reminded her of the fumes that garbage trucks put out as they passed on the street. It was heavy, and could only belong to a man. The smell made her wrinkle her nose, and as she shut the door behind her, she listened as she heard her mother chatting casually with someone in an adjacent room.

She proceeded carefully through the house, stepping carefully over the objects that were strewn across the room. She placed her books onto a side table by the couch, and pushed her way through the random objects until she stood in the doorway, where her mother was standing dangerously close to a man Amber had never seen before. She watched them for a moment, her eyes narrowing as her mother traced a finger teasingly over his lips, though she couldn't see his face. She knew her mother well enough to know her charms; know the way she went about seducing a man. Normally, however, that man wasn't standing amidst piles of clothes that belonged to him. One singular pile, perhaps, but never multiple.

She cleared her throat, and Velma and the man turned to look at her.

"Mother," she addressed Velma, and her eyes fell upon the man, "Who is this?"

Velma linked her arm with the man's, and marched him forward, bringing him closer to Amber.

"This is Chip," Velma smirked, "He's living here now."

The man beside her nodded, his dark hair greased back onto his head. It was so similar to the way Link styled his hair, but the curl was missing. When he extended his hand for her to shake it, she glared up at him, her eyes narrowed into blue slits.

"May I speak with you in private, Mother?" Without waiting for a response, she slipped her arm through Velma's and pulled her across the room, away from the strange man with the dark hair.

"What are you doing?" Amber hissed suddenly, turning so that _Chip_ couldn't see her face. "Mother, this man is a stranger. You can't let him live here."

"Amber, stop it. He's not a stranger. I've been dating him for weeks." She waggled her fingers at him from over her daughter's shoulders. Amber felt her cheeks flush as she tried to keep her voice down, and shook her head.

"Weeks? And you think you're ready to live together?" When she saw Velma's eyes drifting back to the man, she touched her arm lightly. "Mother, I don't want him living here!"

"You don't even know him," Velma chided her, and, for the first time, let her eyes meet her daughters. "He's loaded, Amber. Filthy rich."

"So?" She felt herself getting defensive now, like a child, and swallowed hard. "If he's so filthy rich why isn't he living in a mansion of his own? Why does he have to live here?"

Velma rolled her icy eyes at her daughter, leaning her head in closer, the identical shades of blonde in their hair coming together.

"He's only living here while he's having a house built. He owns some oil company, or something." She was finished with the conversation and pushed Amber out of the way, making her way back to the stranger.

Amber turned, and looked at him. He _looked_ like he owned an oil company. He probably had enough grease in his hair to _fuel_ the oil company. She crossed her arms over her chest, pursing her lips together.

"Amber, don't be such a prude." Velma's fingers tickled the man's neck, and he smirked down at her. "Chip's going to be here for a while. You may as well get used to it."

She walked past both of them quickly, heading straight to her room. Her cheeks were burning with rage, her heart pounding. What _right_ did she have to do this? Why did she feel she could make decisions that would impact both of their lives without even considering her?

She pushed the door shut behind her, leaning against it, letting the angry tears well up in her eyes. She pushed them away quickly with a new thought. Velma Von Tussle went through men like most people went through tissues. He'd be here a week, two weeks tops. Velma would grow tired of him quickly, and then they'd have their old life back.

If only Amber had known, at that moment, what was to come, she wouldn't even have tried to stop the tears from slipping down her cheeks.


	2. Hide

**I told you this was going to be different. This story _does_ deal with some very sensitive issues, and I'm not going to sugarcoat them because I think it's important to talk about it. It's really hard for me to even write this story, but I'm so involved now that I don't think I can stop. I don't mean to offend anyone, and I in NO WAY condone any of the things that I have planned to happen in this story. But it is a drama story, and it will be full of drama. I hope you continue to read.**

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Two weeks later, he was still living in her house. She couldn't call it her home any longer, because it wasn't. It was just a place she was forced to sleep. She saw him every morning after she got up, every before after she went to sleep. Saw him as she was coming out of the shower and going into her bedroom, but she never spoke to him. He'd made casual attempts at conversation, the regular "It's hot out there, huh?" In reference to the weather, but she would never answer him. It was her way of telling Velma that it was _not_ okay for her to bring a stranger into their home. It was a small stand, but one that worked effectively. Velma sighed loudly when Amber walked through the room without speaking, and Amber had come to live in the safe haven of her room.

She hated when rehearsals ended; that meant she had to go home. It meant she had to face Chip the oil tycoon again; she had to be in the same living quarters as him. She couldn't help that she hated him so much. He had taken the only place that had actually belonged to her; her home, and had transformed it into yet another situation where she had to pretend to be someone she wasn't. She had to be on guard at all times, couldn't relax for a moment. She hated the way he would smirk at her over the dinner table as he told stories that she couldn't care less about, and her mother would throw her head back and laugh hysterically. She hated the fact that he, or his money, had turned Velma into the kind of woman who waited on him hand and foot. Hated that she called him pet names like _"_papa bear" and always insisted on public displays of affection that made Amber's stomach churn.

She stood behind, and watched as the other council members filed onto the bus that took them home after every rehearsal. She felt herself shrinking into the corner.

"Aren't you coming?" Tammy asked, and Amber shook her head.

"No, I feel like walking today."

Tammy had never offered to walk home with her, and scurried to get onto the bus.

Amber had begun to walk home from the studio every day, because it took longer. She would stay backstage as long as she could, and once she saw it pull out, she knew she could begin the long trek to her house. She usually didn't get home until after dark, but she didn't care. She would have rather wondered the streets of Baltimore all night than spend a single second in the presence of that slime-ball her mother called a boyfriend.

She couldn't shake the feeling that there was something about him that she detested. Her mother, after all, had been the one to teach her to hate indiscriminately, and Amber did. She despised the way he looked at her, the way it looked like he was always preparing to say something, and then never did. It made her want to slap him, kick him, spit on him. She hated the way his thick, dirty fingers traced her mother's bony arms, hated the way he pretended that _their_ home was his home. The way he would prop his feet on the table, belch loudly. It disgusted her.

She pushed through the cluttered house one evening after the show, and spotted him on the couch. She was hungry; starving, actually, but she refused to walk past him and into the kitchen. Instead, she scurried into her bedroom, closing the door behind her and throwing her schoolbooks onto the comforter of her bed. She slipped her feet out of her shoes and padded over to her vanity, taking a seat and beginning to loosen the cluster of bobby pins and hairspray from the base of her neck.

Her feet were sore and her back ached from dancing. Shelley had pushed her, yet again, and she was sure that she'd sprained her ankle, or at least twisted it. She glared down at the bulbous joint, running her fingers across the red, enflamed area slightly and wincing. She'd managed to make it through the rest of the show; thank God Corny hadn't sent her home. She'd managed to hobble around well enough to suit the rest of them, and though there was a hideous white-hot pain ripping through her, she had still walked home. She couldn't stand to be around _him_ five minutes longer than she had to. It was the first time in her seventeen years that she had pushed herself to the limit, hadn't given into the pain just below her shins, and had made the near forty-five minute walk home.

She watched as her blonde ringlets fell around her face, and suddenly craved sleep. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in her soft bed, pull the covers over her head, sleep. But she couldn't. She was hot, and sweaty, and she knew she needed a shower. There was no avoiding it tonight.

She pushed her bedroom door open, her feet carrying her to the bathroom door, and slipping inside. Even before undressing, she turned the hot water on and let the steam encompass her. She let it fill her lungs slowly, let it swallow her up. She slipped out of her clothes and stepped into the shower, pulling the curtain shut around her. She let the hot water stream over her body, let it ravage her. She cried out softly when the temperature of the water left her swollen ankle stinging and red.

She spent a long time in the shower; it was the only other place besides her bedroom that she knew she was safe from _Chip_. When her skin began to wrinkle and turn the color of her rouge, she reluctantly turned the water off, and stepped onto the small bathmat beside the tub. She reached for her pink, soft robe and slipped it over her shoulders and tied the belt around her thin waist. She pulled it close to her as she opened the door, and held her breath as it creaked slightly. Her only goal, her mission, right now, was to get into her bedroom without running into the man she despised.

She turned to close the bathroom door soundlessly, and when she turned, she saw him. He was perched at the edge of the hallway, blocking the entrance to her room and grinning slyly at her.

"Have a good shower?" There was a sneer in his voice, and she felt her blood go cold. Something about the way his eyes traced down her body made her hug the robe closer, made her heart pound inside of her chest.

"M-Mother!" She called out for Velma, her toes curling in fear and rage.

"Oh, she's not here. I could probably help you with whatever problems you're having, though." His voice was cold, his eyes dark and dead. She pushed herself against the wall, squeezing her eyes shut as she felt him coming closer to her. Tears burned her retinas, she began to silently plead. Began to run through a litany of prayers in her head.

She stayed that way for minutes, pressed into a tiny bulge on the side of the wall, her eyes closed. When she finally opened her eyes moments later, he was gone. She felt her chest heaving as she rushed into her bedroom, slamming and locking the door behind her as an angry sob ripped through her chest.

She buried her face into her robe, trying her best to be silent. She didn't know, he could have been standing on the other side of the door, waiting to see if his intimidation had made an impression on her.

At that moment, she had convinced herself it was the most frightening thing that had ever happened to her in a usually charmed life. She began to lock her bedroom door religiously, each time she went to sleep at night.

However, she was young, and there were lots of things on her mind. She had been thinking about school, the show, Link, and she forgot to lock the door one night. That was _the_ night he decided to destroy everything she was, and Amber had no idea what was coming.


	3. Rain

"Are you okay?" She had heard the question from a million different people, though none of them sounded overly concerned. It was usually asked with the raise of an eyebrow, and a slight elevation in the tone of voice. She would nod in response, and they would continue on their way, only to be followed by yet another person, with the same inquiry. She knew none of them cared. It was just common courtesy to ask if someone was all right when dark bags hung under their eyes and they couldn't seem to stay awake.

Of course, there were always _those_ types of assumptions. The kind that were spread through whispers and ugly glares, the kind that made Amber want to punch the girls who were spreading them.

"She's probably spread out on her back all night, that's why she never gets any sleep." She heard the rumors, but pretended not to. She listened as the perfect pink lips of the other council girls spread the lies, and she tried not to let herself hate them. They had perfect lives, all of them. They had a father who was alive, and a mother who cared enough about them not to invite a stranger into the house to live with them. They had perfect rooms with flowered wallpaper and pink fuzzy slippers that they wore to the breakfast table, where their mothers would be waiting to fix them eggs and bacon just as they liked it. They didn't realize what it was to be a prisoner of your own home.

They didn't realize that she didn't get any sleep because she lay awake all night, thinking, worrying. Worrying that if somehow he managed to pick that skimpy lock on the door, he'd be inside of her room; inside of her sanctuary. She'd be completely at his will.

She had tried to avoid him since that encounter in the hallway a few days ago, after her shower, and she had, for the most part. As much as you can avoid someone who is living in your home. There were still moments of inevitability, though, when it came to seeing him. She eliminated as much of her day as she could, because the less she walked through her home, the less she saw him. She was skipping breakfast, ate lunch at school, and skipped dinner most days. She hadn't watched television in the living room since the day he'd arrived, and it had been equally as long since she'd had a full conversation with her mother.

"I'm okay," she finally let herself respond to one of the council members, though she wasn't completely sure which one. She was so tired that faces had begun to blur. She could barely dance on the show, and needed to reserve most of her energy for the long walk home. Once she got there, she could collapse onto her bed. But there would be no sleep, no matter how tired she was. No matter how much she needed it, she couldn't fall asleep. Her conscience would wake her abruptly, and her eyes would fall upon that doorknob. Sometimes, she even imagined she saw it turning, and her heart would begin to pound faster, and she would begin to sweat. She would start to whimper, and pull the covers closer to her. It was then that she closed her eyes, squeezed them shut, just like she had that day in the hallway. When she opened her eyes, everything was all right. That didn't help matters much, though. She was still terrified, too scared to sleep.

She let her feet drag through the show, and when the director said the words, they stopped. Everyone around her began to chatter excitedly with weekend plans, and Tammy approached her cautiously.

"Hi, Amber." She sounded tentative, and Amber gave her the best smile she could manage.

"Hi, Tammy."

She hesitated for a moment.

"Fender and I are going to the hop on Saturday night. You and Link are coming, right?" She looked suddenly hopeful.

Amber brushed hand over her forehead, pushing the golden curls from her face and panting softly. She looked toward Link, who was chatting casually with Fender. She and Link hadn't been speaking much lately. At all, in fact. They sat beside each other in history class each day, and she always felt his eyes upon her, but she never knew what to say. He would ask to come to her house, and she always said no. He didn't know about Chip, because she didn't want to spend what time she had away from him actually talking about him. She had always hoped that Link would ask her to his house, but she knew that Link was ashamed of the fact that his father drank. She wanted to tell him that it didn't matter to her; she'd rather be anywhere than her own house.

"Sure," Amber nodded easily, though she wasn't sure at all. It was easier than saying no.

"Great!" Tammy looked excited again, and pushed her head to the side suddenly. "You okay, Amber?"

She felt herself sighing, and let herself nod.

"I'm fine." She turned on her heels quickly, and let herself begin towards Link, who was now standing alone with his back toward her. She touched his shoulder and he jumped slightly, smiling when he saw her.

"Hey." He hesitated for a moment, and then pecked her cheek. "You okay?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to ignore the fact that she was horribly sick of that question.

"Yeah," she said the word softly, and he grinned at her. She missed that smile. She missed holding his hand at the movies, and suddenly wished that she'd treated him a little better through the years. Wished that she hadn't always been so bossy with him, wished that she hadn't always proclaimed him as her property. It would be nice to have someone to open up to right about now. "Listen, Tammy and Fender are going to the hop on Saturday. Do you wanna go? You know, like the four of us, together?"

He hesitated for a moment, and then nodded.

"Sure, sounds good. I'll pick you up at eight?" His blue eyes looked away from her quickly, "Hey, I gotta talk to Brad about something. Excuse me?"

She nodded, and he disappeared into the crowd. She hugged herself, knowing that it was that time again. It was time to begin the long journey home. She took her time shuffling around the studio, grabbing her school things and delaying cleaning the area around her backstage vanity mirror. She had learned to tell time by the sounds around her, and when she heard the school bus shudder and then rumble away, she knew it was safe to leave. She shoved a few make-up brushes into the drawer of the vanity and picked up her books, turning to go. She looked up at the man standing before her, his blue eyes full of concern.

"Amber." His voice was so soft, so warm that it sounded like a lullaby. It made her want to close her eyes, and drift off to sleep, and that wouldn't be hard with how tired she was at the moment.

"Hi, Corny." She didn't let her eyes meet his. If he got a good look at her face, he would know something was wrong. He would start to ask questions; questions she couldn't tell him the answer to. This man was the last person on earth that she would open up to. He was so smooth, so charming. Corny Collins didn't listen to the personal problems of seventeen-year-old girls.

"I noticed you've been having a little trouble lately," she realized that his tie was undone, and the collar of his shirt was unbuttoned, and suddenly had trouble breathing. She felt her cheeks blush dark pink, and turned her face away from him. "I was wondering if everything is all right."

She suddenly felt guilty about lying to him. This was _his_ show, after all. Still, she couldn't bring herself to tell him she wasn't sleeping at night because she was afraid her mother's boyfriend would break into her room.

"I haven't been sleeping very well," it was true, just not the entire truth.

"Is something going on at home?" He suddenly sounded like a guidance counselor, and she realized how easy it would be to tell him everything. But, then, what was she even going to tell him? That Velma, who was _his boss_, had brought a man into their house and he looked at her strange? He had never touched her, he'd never even threatened her directly. There was nothing to tell.

"Not really," she said the words, and a yawn managed to escape before she had time to cover her mouth. She glanced foolishly up at him, and decided to repeat her words. "I just haven't been sleeping well."

She could see that he was trying to press back a smile.

"I kind of figured that; you missed the bus about ten minutes ago."

She nodded, unable to look at him. He obviously didn't realize she'd been "missing the bus" for over two weeks now. She assumed that he also hadn't noticed that she'd lost seven pounds due to the decrease in her appetite and the increase in daily exercise.

She suddenly realized he was pulling his suit jacket on as he watched her.

"Well, I'm leaving; I'll give you a ride home." He watched her for a moment, and she caught her breath in her throat. She wanted to say yes; of course she did. She was exhausted, her feet hurt, there was a pain in the small of her back that she couldn't rub away. Still, she shook her head.

"No, it's okay. I really don't mind walking."

He fell back on his heels, giving her the familiar eyebrow raise.

"It's raining, Amber."

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and she made a noise in the back of her throat.

"That's okay, I have an umbrella." She didn't have an umbrella. She didn't even have a coat. Her dress, her books, her homework, everything would be ruined by the rain. That was just a chance she would have to take.

He watched her strangely for a moment, and then nodded, smiling tightly at her.

"Right. Well, see you tomorrow, then. Goodnight, Amber."

"Goodnight," was all she could muster, though there was so much she wanted to say. She wanted to beg for a ride, but not to her home; wanted to go anywhere else but home.

She started out of the studio and quickly realized that Corny was right; it was raining, and hard. She managed to find an old sheet of newspaper and held it over her with one hand, clutching her books with the other. She began the long trudge to her house, her feet inadvertently stepping in puddles that splashed up on her legs, and her silky dress. She suddenly felt like Cinderella in the ratted, torn dress she wore before she was transformed into the beautiful princess.

She felt tears beginning to burn her eyes, and didn't even bother to push them back. It was pouring. No one would be able to tell the difference between her tears and the rain. Not that anyone would care enough to try.

She walked for a few more minutes, and then felt a car pulling up beside her. Her heart began to skip beats, and she tried to walk faster, but she was so exhausted that she thought about just collapsing. She began to worry it was Chip, and then suddenly realized how paranoid she had become. Moving the paper carefully from her line of vision, she glanced at the car, which had slowed to a stop beside her.

She recognized Corny's face instantly, and he rolled the car window down just enough for her to hear him.

"You lied." The corners of his mouth were turned into a frown.

"Excuse me?" She sputtered the words, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands and recognizing the black smudge of her mascara.

"You don't have an umbrella." She had stopped walking, and looked at him stupidly, not really sure of what to say next. He cocked his head to the side. "Get in, Amber. I'm taking you home."

Home? The word was foreign to her. She had no home. No one there wanted her, no one there cared. But suddenly, it seemed that Corny did, and his car was warm and dry.

At least she could enjoy the ride there. Meanwhile, she would try not to think about entering the seventh circle of hell after climbing those porch steps.


	4. Broken

**Okay... just a warning. This was the hardest thing I've ever written, and will, in all honesty, will probably be the hardest chapter to read. I just want to warn everyone, this is a really difficult chapter, and it's a very sensitive topic. As I said before, I do not approve of anything like this, but it is dramatic fiction. I do realize this story is only rated T, so I won't go into as much detail as possible. So, you've had a warning, please proceed with caution.**

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By 8:25 on Saturday night, Link still hadn't shown up. She had spent the entire day in her room, preparing for the dance. She had washed, dried, brushed and curled her golden, silky hair until it rested perfectly on the crown of her head, spilling in large curls down her neck. She had slipped on the nicest, silkiest dress she owned, and admired her reflection in the mirror. The dress was dotted with polka dots of different color, large and small. She loved the way it felt against her skin. She had managed to smother enough make-up onto her face to hide the dark circles under her eyes, and she had been feeling fantastic. She had convinced herself that today was the first day of the rest of her life, and that she was going to stop living in fear. She and Link would have an amazing time at the dance, and they would be able to make their relationship work. She would even open up to him; tell him the problems she'd been having. Surely, he would listen. He would make everything better.

By nine o'clock, she had spent the last hour staring out the window in her room, her fingers brushing her silky skirts as she watched every car go up the street, her eyes following its taillights until they disappeared into the darkness. This wasn't like Link; he didn't stand anyone up, much less her. She wanted to call him suddenly, wanted to make sure everything was all right. There was just one problem; the phone was in the living room.

She held her breath, and quickly reminded herself of the vow she had made earlier. She wouldn't live in fear any longer. If Chip was going to harass her, he surely would have done it by now. She pulled her bedroom door open and slipped through the crack, letting her feet carry her soundlessly to the living room. She couldn't help but feel relieved at the fact that it was empty. She perched herself on the arm of a chair and began to work the rotary on the phone, holding the receiver to her ear. It rang three times, and then a soft voice answered. Link's mother.

"May I speak with Link, please?" She tried to be as polite as possible.

"Who's calling?" Her response was tentative.

"This is Amber," she tried not to think about the possibility that other girls had been calling Link, and that was why his mother was confused.

"Oh…" she hesitated, "he's not here."

Amber swallowed hard.

"Do you know if he left for the hop yet? He was supposed to pick me up an hour ago, I was worried…"

"He's sick," his mother sputtered suddenly. Amber narrowed eyes, letting her fingernail scratch the material of her dress.

"I thought you said he was-"

"Sick," she spat back, "he's sick." And she hung up.

Amber sat, holding the receiver for several moments, trying to ignore the burning pain of rejection behind her eyes. So that's what this was; this was his subtle attempt at getting back at her for the way he'd treated her in the past. Fine.

She hung the receiver up, and clenched her jaw. She didn't need Link; she could go to the hop alone. There would be plenty of boys to dance with, plenty who would fall over themselves to get to her. At least that's what she let herself believe.

She let herself stand, and began into her bedroom to grab her purse, and gasped as she came face to face with Chip. She looked up at him, sucking in her breath. He stood so close to her that she could smell the grease in his hair, could hear his breath. She tried to withdraw into herself, the impossible fear nagging at her again.

"Well, well, well," he let himself sigh loudly, his dirty fingers reaching up to pull at a loose curl, "What are we all dressed up for?"

She clenched her jaw again, listening as her own breath became heavy and irregular. She pulled back from him slightly, and he groaned.

"What are you pulling away for, little girl?" When she didn't answer, he began to study her dress. "Polkie dots, eh? Who you wearin' polkie dots for?" She saw him, from the corner of her eye, reach a hand out towards her and she slapped it away quickly, glaring up at him.

"Don't touch me." Her eyes were blue slants of hatred, and he looked genuinely surprised that she had confronted him.

"What'd you just say to me?" He raised his black eyebrows at her, and she sneered at him. She wanted to push past him, but he had her cornered between the couch and the wall.

"I said, don't touch me. I don't care how you fondle my mother; you're not going to put your disgusting hands on me." She had found her strength quickly, and pushed past him, knocking her shoulder into his chest as she passed him. She felt her face burning as she stomped into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her and collapsing onto her bed without even bothering to turn the lights on.

She suddenly hated Link, hated him with all of her heart. He had been her one ticket to freedom, and he'd decided to bail on her. He was out doing God knew what with God knew who, and she was stuck here with the devil incarnate. She didn't understand why her mother was gone so much without him, when she had been the one to invite him to move in. She suddenly hated her mother, too. She hated herself for believing that tonight would fix anything. Nothing ever worked out that way for her.

She let herself cry into her pillows for what seemed like hours, until all that was left inside of her were empty sobs that wracked her body. She let her body curl into a fetal position, her knees rose to her chest and she hugged them, still wearing the fluffy dress. She turned her back to the door, letting her gaze fall onto the blank walls of her bedroom as she began to drift into a soundless sleep, her body still shaking with the aftershock of her tears.

It seemed like it took hours to fall asleep, but with her distorted view of time, it could have been only minutes. She didn't hear her bedroom door creak open, and certainly didn't hear as it clicked into the locked position after being shut. She didn't hear him make his way across her bedroom floor, and didn't feel his rough fingertips as they traced the outline of her slender hip through the dress. His breath was heavy, but she didn't hear that, either.

She sighed in her sleep, shifting enough to make him withdraw from her, if only for a moment. Her body turned slightly, and her dress slipped up her legs just the tiniest bit, but that was enough for him. The sight of her young flesh made his skin crawl, and without hesitance, he reached out and skimmed his fingers over the skin on her thigh. It was soft, barely enough to feel her, but that was enough. Her sleep was restless enough, and her eyes fluttered open, her eyes falling upon his shape in the darkness.

She sat upright quickly, her lungs exploding with a scream that even she didn't recognize as her own. He flinched at the high-pitched yell, and she pulled her legs up to her, swinging at him wildly, punching, kicking, spitting. Her heart was pounding out of her chest, her mouth suddenly tasting of cotton. She screamed louder, letting it rip through her lungs until it hurt her throat and made her hoarse, but she didn't stop; she couldn't.

"Get away from me! Get the fuck away!" He came closer to her, and she began to kick at him, her feet searching for something; anything to disable him, if just for the slightest moment. Anything that would allow her to get away from him. He was stronger and faster than she expected him to be, and he grabbed her ankle, the swollen one at that, twisting it and making her cry out in pain. Fresh tears stung her eyes, and she screamed again as he pulled on her leg, causing her to fall against the bed again.

"Shh," his voice was hoarse, "stop being such a little bitch or this will hurt worse than you've ever imagined."

She sucked her breath in at his words, but continued to fight against him, letting her nails reach out in an attempt to scratch his face, scratch his eyes out. Anything.

"Get off!" The roughness of her voice sounded surreal, even to her, and she squealed as he pushed her against the bed, using one of his hands to pin her wrists behind her head. She screamed again, arching her back up in an attempt to wriggle free of his grasp. Sobs begin to rip through her, and she suddenly found herself pleading with him, as his fingers worked their way into the space between her thighs. Her voice was suddenly small, and she felt the tears slipping down her cheeks. "Please! Please, stop. Stop, stop, stop!"

A grunt was his only response as he bunched her dress around her waist, and she continued to writhe beneath him. Her cries, her moans of protest sounded so far away, even to her. She was suddenly drifting out of her own mind; she was so far away as she felt his fingers push into her, and she let out a deep sob that tore through her, her chest heaving. Her beautiful blonde curls had become matted to her sweaty neck, and her sticky face. The make-up she had applied so carefully had begun to run into her eyes, and it blinded her. The pain of his ministrations, the screams that tore through her, the burning. It was all happening at once, and she tossed her head back and forth, trying to escape from it all. Trying to get as far away as she could, trying to become a bird so that she could fly away. She began to sob a deep, heart-wrenching cry that left her exhausted, and suddenly he was upon her, his disgusting mouth pressing against hers so that she couldn't breathe. She acted upon instinct and bit his tongue as it searched the warm cavity of her mouth. He growled loudly and pulled back, pulling his hand from between her legs to smack her face as hard as was possible. She grunted, reeling at the force of the blow, and felt herself breaking into a million pieces as he neared her again, his mouth dangerously close to her ear. His dirty, stubby fingernails dug into the sensitive skin on her wrist, and she could hear the sneer in his voice.

"Fight your way out of this one, you little whore."

It was that simple statement that broke everything inside of Amber Von Tussle, and she let her body go limp.


	5. Spirit

**Thanks for the reviews, everyone! I've got some big plans for this story, so please keep reading! I'm glad to see that all of you hate Chip as much as I do!**

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_Bitch_. The names he had called her repeated in her head. 

Sometime after the screams that had torn at her throat, and the searing pain that had ripped her in half, he was gone. He left her a crumpled mess on her bed, shivering, holding her knees to her chest. She could no longer cry. She had cried for so hard, for so long, that there was nothing left inside of her. She could still sob, but all of her tears had been wasted on that monster.

She hadn't moved from her bed; her body was too weak to do anything, much less stand up, but she hadn't let herself sleep, because she hadn't even been able to muster enough energy to lock the door behind him after he had left. She'd spent the last few hours whispering soft prayers that he wouldn't decide to come back slipped through her lips. _Hours_, that was a funny concept to her now. It seemed like it had been days, eternities even, since he had left her body broken and bruised. It could only have been hours though, no matter how long the night had felt.

When the sun appeared on the horizon, she heard her mother come home. She wanted to call out to her, but her voice was so hoarse, so broken. She thought about dragging herself through the hallways and to the feet of the woman who had raised her, but knew better. Even if Velma did believe her, which she wouldn't, she couldn't leave this room. She could not put herself out there for him to see the bloody, ugly, disgusting girl he had left in here to die; that's what she was doing, and no one even knew it. Her own mother didn't realize that just beyond this thin door, her daughter was dying. Dying of the hurt that he had inflicted on her; the pain that had torn her body in half. Dying of the insufferable loneliness that no one even pretended to care about. Dying because she had never really had a chance to live, and her life had just been taken from her, in every sense of the word.

Amber felt her eyes gloss over as she stared at the blank wall, a soft whimper escaping from somewhere deep inside of her. She knew she needed to get up, go to the mirror, estimate the damage he had done to her, but she was too afraid. She was too afraid that the blood had damaged her pretty dress, too afraid that he'd left scars on her face, or her wrists; too afraid that she wouldn't be able to hide this from people that she saw every day. She heard her mother's bedroom door close, and her frail body trembled in response to the sudden noise. She hugged her arms around her, letting out a low whine as she inadvertently shifted and the pain radiated between her legs, her bare thighs sticky with what she could only presume, or hope, was blood. It felt like a million paper cuts between her thighs, and she let out a low groan that left her throat hurting. It was almost instinct for her to reach down, to touch the part of her that stung so badly, but as her fingers began to skim past her belly button, she stopped. She couldn't bear to touch it; couldn't bear to look. She didn't want to see how he had destroyed her.

_Whore._

She lay still in bed for what felt like days, but was, in actuality, mere hours. She tried to focus on something, anything other than the stinging pain inside of her and the throbbing in her cheek. She wanted to forget everything; forget the last twenty-four hours and convince herself that it had never happened. She thought, for a moment, that she heard Velma coming towards her room, maybe telling her that it was time to leave for school. She did that sometimes, though only when she didn't feel like having Amber linger around the house any longer. She held her breath, hoping, _praying_ that it was her; that she would find her daughter in this broken heap, and rush to her side. When Amber realized it was Sunday morning, she felt her heart sink further into her chest. Her stomach was sick, and she suddenly felt like throwing up, but forced the feeling down. She refused to leave this room, even for the restroom. She would not let herself become a victim again.

As she lay there, her dress ripped and bloody, she tried to think about how much worse it could have been. He could have killed her, could have seriously injured her. She could be dead right now.

But who was to say that she wasn't?

_Slut_.

It took everything she had left to pull herself into a sitting position, and she let the room spin around her as she tried to adjust to the feeling of unfamiliarity. This had always been her room, she'd always looked at these same four walls, had always slept in this bed, but everything felt so different. She didn't recognize any of it, even in the gentle light of morning. By the time she had placed her feet on the floor, she began to walk, then stumbled and crawled to the bedroom door, locking it with a loud shriek, pounding her fists against it, hating herself for forgetting to do that the previous night. Hating herself for being such a damn fool.

She rested against the door, and the instant her cheek pressed against the wood, she withdrew quickly, her fingers flying up to the inflamed skin on her face. Tracing her fingers over it, she knew she had to look. There was no way around it. She had to know how she looked; had to know how much make-up it would take to hide these wounds, the superficial ones. She could worry about the rest later.

Her hands dug into the carpet on the floor, dragging herself, her legs too weak to work on their own. She pulled herself, grunting against the pain at the apex of her thighs, and when she reached her vanity table, she grabbed onto the small chair and pulled herself up. It was still mostly dark in the room, and she could only make out the form of her reflection, no particular facial features, or the scars that marred them. Her hands fumbled to find the small lamp on the table. It sat just where it always had, but it all felt so unfamiliar that she couldn't remember. She closed her crystal eyes before switching the lamp on, too afraid, for a moment, to open them. Too afraid to see what he had done to her.

She let her eyes open quickly, and studied her reflection. Not bad, for someone who had just been brutally attacked. No black eyes, no bloody scratches. Her cheek was still pink, and there was the slight outline of a handprint, but nothing that couldn't be covered with make-up. Nothing that no one would ever have to know about.

She had, for a moment, forgotten about the pain in the lower half of her body, and when she remembered, she looked down quickly. She didn't know what she'd been expecting, but it was worse. Her dress _was_ torn, though she didn't remember when that had happened. Maybe the shredding of the fabric had coincided with her screams, and that was why she hadn't heard it. Her cries had drowned everything else out.

She pulled her skirt up slightly, and when she saw the blood on her thighs, she wanted to cry. Her eyes began to burn with the familiar sting of tears, but none came. Her mind told her that she needed to cry over this, but her body refused; it had been drained of its moisture the previous night.

The crimson liquid stained the skin on her legs, and the bottom of the dress. It made her want to scream again, but she couldn't. Soundlessly, she pulled a plain robe out of her closet, and let the dress slip off of her shoulders, and onto the ground. Her panties were ripped, destroyed, stained. She dropped them into the wastebasket next to her vanity and slipped into the robe, tying the sash and trying to ignore the bitter smell of blood in the room. She pulled a tissue from the box on the dresser and began to scrub at her legs with it, desperate to get rid of the stains, get rid of the evidence. Desperate to make herself believe that this had never happened. But she couldn't do that. She couldn't forget the way he had touched her, the way he had spoken to her. The way he had forced his way inside of her, despite the fact that she'd pleaded, begged him not to. The way she had felt the first trickle of blood run down her leg, and the way a dark lock of his hair had fallen onto his forehead during his ministrations. The way he had reminded her so much of Link at that moment. The way she'd been most afraid of him ripping her dress at first, because that was all that really seemed important. The way that he'd taken _everything_ from her, and hadn't cared that she'd taken such precaution to protect it, and herself.

She couldn't stand the force against her sensitive skin, and instead began to wipe herself gently with the tissue, clenching her jaw when she realized she would need a shower before the stains would disappear. She couldn't do that now; it wasn't safe. The enemy was still out there, still waiting for her.

She dropped the tissues into the trash, and lowered herself onto the seat carefully, her bottom stinging as she sat. She looked into her reflection, and into the blue eyes that had always looked back at her. She knew they were different. It wasn't the same girl, watching her. She could try to convince herself differently; try to rebuild the confidence she had always had, if not for that tiny voice in the back of her head.

_Fight your way out of this one, you little whore_.

She felt ill again, and retched over the garbage can, but nothing came up. Her entire body had been emptied.

Now, when all the other girls called her hollow, shallow, empty, they would be right. Even she wouldn't be able to deny the fact that she had lost so much more than her innocence the night before; she had lost her spirit.

But no one would ever know that. As she glared at the bloody tissues beneath her, she made herself that solemn vow.


	6. Run

She managed to get through a week of the show, and the searing pain between her legs finally began to fade. The first day back, it had hurt so badly; every twist, every turn, but she couldn't stop dancing. Stopping meant going home directly after school, and that was something she did _not_ want to do. The redness and swollenness of her cheek had faded enough by the time she went back to school that no one noticed, and she didn't have to use much make-up to cover the rest of the minor scratches and bruises. Though her feet didn't want to cooperate, didn't want to twist and mambo and mashed potato, she pushed herself, because it was the only thing she could do.

She had been so late within the last week at coming home that her mother had bluntly told her that _Chip_ had decided she needed to be home by eight o'clock each night. She had wanted to protest, of course, but he had been right there, and she hadn't been able to move her eyes from the floor. She had nodded in compliance, and locked herself in her bedroom for the night, cursing silently at him once she had crawled beneath the blankets.

During the day, she could pretend to be okay. She could pretend to smile and laugh and everything would be fine. Everyone would believe her lies, and if she really tried, she could make herself start to believe them too. But that was only during the day, when she was surrounded by lots of other people, none of them Chip. Night was a different story.

If she'd had trouble sleeping before, it was a million times worse now. Sometimes, if Chip had been particularly testy with her that day or looked at her a little too long, her wounds would begin to ache again. On those nights, she would pull the vanity from its space in the corner of her room, and block her door. That was for extra protection. It helped her slip into an uneasy sleep, and she had spent the last week in that state of rest. She usually got about three hours of sleep per night with the vanity in front of the door, and it was barely enough to keep her from sleeping in school. She always turned her head away from her classmates and tried to sleep in school, but the teachers always caught her. She'd already been threatened with detention, and most days wished they would actually send her there. The detention kids could do whatever they wanted. They had no idea that they had more freedom than even she did. She envied them. She tried to remind herself that it was less than two months; two months until she turned eighteen, and could escape the confines of her prison cell. She could move far away, never see him again. It was the only fantasy she'd had since he'd arrived, though now more than ever.

Because it was demanded of her to be home by eight o'clock, she was forced to ride the bus home with the other council members. Before Chip had come into their lives, and she had ridden the bus home, she'd always sat with Link. It was like an unspoken rule, and everyone expected it of them. She hadn't spoken to him since he had stood her up, and he hadn't looked particularly guilty or sorry for what he had done. She wanted to scream at him, to tell him that if he had picked her, if they had gone to the hop, maybe this wouldn't have happened to her. Maybe she wouldn't have nightmares in the few hours of sleep she _did _manage to get. Maybe she wouldn't feel so horribly filthy and disgusting _all_ the time. Just maybe.

It was the first time she'd been on the bus since before he'd arrived, and she let herself push through the row and towards the back, sliding gently into a seat. The other council members looked at her strangely, as if she didn't belong there. Maybe they were right; maybe she didn't. She sure didn't feel like it. She didn't think that she fit in with their happy, smiling faces. She knew that they didn't have to pretend to laugh; it just came natural. It was supposed to, after all, for teenage girls. It was supposed to be a time of slumber parties and gossip, telephone calls that lasted for hours and first dates. Amber had been the queen of that once; before she became the horrible, charred remains of nothing that she was now. It seemed like a different life.

The ride home was uncomfortable, physically and emotionally. The bus hit the potholes in the road, bumping her seat and sending sharp pains through her abdomen. She let her eyes remain fixed on the windows, as the others around her fell eerily silent. She let her eyes graze the group of her peers once, and noticed that Link wasn't looking at her. His blue eyes gazed stoically at the seat in front of him. She hoped that he felt guilty. It was all she could do anymore; hope. Hope that Chip would die, hope that her mother would come to her senses and kick him out of their house. Hope didn't help much, especially for the hope_less_.

When the bus pulled to her stop, she stood slowly and walked down the aisle, all eyes following her as she went. She clutched her books tightly against her chest, and heard the few, desperate cries of goodbye from Tammy and Darla before she gave them a tight smile and descended the stairs of the bus, her feet finally hitting the sidewalk. She swallowed hard as the bus pulled away, and she hesitated before climbing the stairs to the porch. She glanced casually down at her watch. 8:05. Shit. _Shit!_

There was no more time for hesitance, and she raced up the stairs, ignoring the shooting pain and pushed through the front door. She held her breath, trying to slip through the living room and into her bedroom before he saw her. She was starving, but food would have to wait. She'd trained her body to eat when it was safe to do so, not when her stomach decided to growl. As she walked through the living room, she noticed that his greasy smell wasn't as pungent as it normally was, and she quickly spotted Velma in an adjacent hallway. She wanted to call out to her, but was afraid to be overheard. She scurried towards her, still clutching her books.

"Mom!" The word was barely more than a whisper, and Velma looked up from where she stood, gazing into her closet.

She arched an eyebrow at Amber.

"Yes?"

Amber let her eyes dart around the room.

"Where is _he_?"

"Where is who?" Velma responded, so nonchalantly that it made Amber want to scream. The man who had destroyed her life, who had robbed her of something he had _no_ right to take. The man who had single-handedly made her life miserable; that's who.

"Chip," she tried not to roll her eyes. She needed her mother's confidence. Needed her to listen without judgment for once in her life.

"Oh, him. He went out of town on business for a few days."

It was the most glorious news she had ever heard. Suddenly, Amber knew that she needed to tell her mother what had happened. She needed to make her see that he was evil. Surely, even she could understand that.

"Mom, I need to talk to you." She could feel the lump growing in her throat and Velma sighed exasperatedly, throwing her hands up in the air.

"Fine, talk!"

"I need you to listen," she reached one hand out, gently touching her mother's bare arm. Velma recoiled like a snake, placing her bony fingers on her tiny hips.

"I'm listening," she hissed the words back at her. Amber took a deep breath.

"I need to talk to you about Chip." She could barely get the words out, and felt the knot in her stomach grow, and wanted to cry, but couldn't. She hadn't, not since that night. She felt her lips beginning to tremble, and looked away for a moment. "Mom, you won't believe what he's done."

She was so desperate for some kind of sympathy from Velma, anything. A touch, a hug, a kiss. But she remained cold as ice, watching her with steely blue eyes.

"Mom, he-"

The doorbell rang suddenly, and Amber sucked in her breath. She pressed herself against the wall; she knew it was him. He had heard her, somehow, and he had come to get her. This was it. She was going to die tonight, she knew it.

"Ugh," Velma groaned, "go and answer the door, I'm trying to decide which dress to wear tonight."

"Tonight?" Amber felt panicked, "Why? Where are you going?"

"Out," Velma responded, "get the door, Amber."

She tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry. She tried to grab for Velma, but she pulled out of her reach, moving so that she slammed the bedroom door in Amber's face. Her legs trembled as she walked to the front door, her heart pounding. She placed her hand on the knob and prepared herself for the heavy blow that was inevitably to follow. She felt her belly clench, and the pain between her legs started again. Slowly, she pulled the door open, letting a dry sob wrack her body as she saw the man on the porch.

"Corny?" It was such a shock to her that he looked confused suddenly.

"Amber?" He tried to mock her expression, smirking at her, but she was too terrified to realize it.

"What…what are you doing here?" She stammered the words, her hand clutching the doorknob.

"What, were you expecting someone else?" He grinned good-naturedly at her, and she watched him, finally shaking her head quickly.

"No. No. I just…wasn't expecting you."

He nodded.

"Yeah, well, I wasn't expecting to drop by, but…" he held an arm out to her, and she recognized the white sweater draped over his forearm as her own, "I believe you forgot this at the studio. I thought you might get cold on your way to school tomorrow without it."

She nodded dumbly, reaching out to take the soft garment from him, her eyes falling upon it as she hugged it against her chest.

"Thank you." She didn't even realize that it was the first time anyone had actually admitted to caring about her; if she had, she might have wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. Instead, she stared at the pile of cloth in her hands.

"Amber," he said her voice again, "are you sure everything is all right?" He hesitated for a moment, "You can tell me, you know. I don't bite."

_But Chip did_.

The thought made her shudder, and she gasped for air suddenly.

"No, I'm fine. I'm really fine," she said the words as convincingly as she could, and took a step back into the house. It was a step away from him, away from the danger of telling him anything. He could not get involved in this; it was _her _problem, and no one else's. "Thanks again for the sweater. I really have to go, though, I've got homework." She stepped into the house, shutting the door against him. It was the best way she knew how to block him out.

She hugged the sweater, and hurried to Velma's bedroom again. The door was still closed. She rapped her fingernail against it lightly.

"Mom?" She pushed it open a crack, to find Velma already in bed, the lights out. She felt her face flush with anger. "Mother! I really need to speak with you."

She could see Velma flinch, and move slowly to pull down her eye mask.

"Christ's Sake, what is it?" Her tone wasn't kind, or understanding. Velma wasn't any of those things, but she had to try.

"Mom," her chest heaved, and she sobbed, "It's Chip." She tried to find her breath, and could feel the frustrating burn of tears, though she knew none would come. "Mom, he touched me." It was the hardest thing she'd ever said, and the words felt ugly and filthy as she pushed them out, "No, not touched. He _hurt _me, Mother." Words couldn't describe the hurt, the pain he had inflicted upon her, so she didn't even try.

"What?" Velma ripped her mask off, and for a moment, Amber knew everything would be better. Velma wasn't an awful mother, she wasn't going to stand by and let some worthless scumbag hurt-

"You liar!" She hissed the words at Amber, who recoiled sharply. "You filthy little brat!"

"What?" It came out as a gasp, "No! Mother, I'm not-"

"How _dare_ you accuse that man of even _looking_ at you the wrong way! You're disgusting!" She spat the words at her daughter, and Amber pushed herself against the wall.

"Mother, you don't understand! You don't see how he is! He's a monster!"

"You're the only monster in this house," Velma's voice was cold as ice, "shut your mouth, and get the hell out of my room."

She slipped the eye-mask over her face again and slumped down into the bed. She could feel her body shaking with rage, and she let out a high-pitched shriek before falling out of the room, her hands slamming the door shut behind her as she pelted herself into the living room. She knew she was screaming something, though the words were unrecognizable, even to her. She let mouth say everything she could think of, let herself scream the words at her mother without abandon, and before she realized it, her feet were carrying her down the front steps and into the streets of the city.

She wasn't completely sure where she was going, but it was anywhere but there. Anywhere from that place; that place that made Hell enviable. She let herself break into a full run, her arms still carrying the sweater that Corny had given to her just moments before. The flats of her feet hit the pavement, and it hurt like hell, but she let herself run. Past street lights, past houses, past all of the stores that were closed for the night. She didn't know how long she'd been running for, but it felt like she had been split in half again, and she finally let herself collapse near a bench that sat at the edge of a park, that was at least a mile and a half from her home. She curled herself into a ball and hugged her knees to her chest, pressing her eyes shut tight.

That was where Corny found her, just moments later.


	7. Hurt

**I know I'm posting these really quickly, but I'm just getting a lot of inspiration hahaha...**

**And, I promise this story IS going somewhere... I wouldn't lead you guys on for no reason at all!**

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She couldn't keep her eyes open. She felt her head beginning to nod, her eyelids beginning to droop. She was in history class, with Link on her left and some of the council girls surrounding her on other sides. This used to be her favorite class, only because they could chatter excitedly while Mr. Flack droned on, and he was normally so clueless as to what was going on in the back of the classroom that they never got in trouble. Now, she listened as the other girls whispered; their voices low to avoid being overheard by her. She already knew what they were saying; it wasn't hard to figure out. They were talking about her, and she knew it. That was fine; they were completely ignorant of what it felt like to be so afraid all the time. They didn't know what it felt like to be so utterly empty.

It had been two days since the fight she'd had with Velma, and Chip hadn't come back from out of town yet. The first night, the night Corny had found her on that bench, he had taken her home. She could remember the hesitance in his voice as he'd tried to pry her from the bench. She wouldn't budge; she couldn't. It was her attempt to tell him that something was seriously wrong. After several minutes of trying to nudge her up, he'd slid onto the bench beside her, and they'd sat that way for what seemed like hours, no words escaping either of their mouths. Finally, when a light rain had begun to sprinkle down on them, he had slipped his hand into hers, and she let him lead her to his car. He had taken the sweater from her hands and slipped it over her shoulders, protecting her from the cool mist of the rain. He had opened the door for her, and she had climbed in.

They had sat in silence for a few minutes, and then he had cleared his throat.

"I don't understand something, Amber."

She had sat silently in the seat beside him, hugging herself. She wanted to look at him, but couldn't find the strength.

"I don't understand why, if everything is so fine, you would rather spend the night on a park bench than in your own bed." His fingers gripped the steering wheel, though he hadn't even started the car yet. She felt his eyes watching her. She clenched her jaw, desperate not to tell him anything. She was fine. She could convince herself of that; she could convince _him_ of that.

"Corny," she had let herself say his name, her voice breaking, "I just…I just can't." _Can't go home, can't tell you why_. There were so many different meanings behind her words.

"Can't what?" He had pushed her, for the first time, for more information. He was watching her, and she bit on her lip.

"I just can't talk about it." She couldn't tell him that he had ripped her apart; he would think she was dirty, filthy just like Velma did. He would kick her off the show, she just knew it. "You just wouldn't understand."

"Damnit," he had smacked the steering wheel with his hands, and she had flinched, "Amber, why do you have to be so damned stubborn?"

_Because_ _it was all she could do; it was the only way she could protect herself_. She had let her eyes go wide, and had kept them focused on her shoes on the floor of the car.

"I'm sorry," his voice had softened, "it's just...you're having trouble staying awake during the show, you haven't been acting the same. I'm just a little worried about you, is all."

_A little worried about you_, the words echoed in her head now as she let her eyelids droop, her blonde head coming to rest upon her forearm, which was lying flat on her desk. She could see his concerned eyes, the corners of his lips turning into a frown as he had driven her home in silence. The way he had helped her out of the car and up the stairs, and the way she'd held onto him for just a moment too long before entering her house. None of it had gone unnoticed by him.

Her mind began to swarm with the crazy images and ideas that only come with sleep, and she shifted against her desk, inadvertently letting a soft snore slip out. A few of the girls around her began to giggle, and Mr. Flack turned to look at them.

"Excuse me!" His voice was loud, "Miss Von Tussle, this is not naptime."

She pulled herself upright quickly, her face flushing as the students turned to look at her.

"I'm sorry," the words slipped through her lips as she tried to steady herself, and he sighed at her.

"That's the second time you've fallen asleep today." His fingers worked on the tiny notepad beneath him and he ripped a small piece of pink paper from the pad, offering it to her. "Please go visit the principal."

The sick feeling returned to her stomach at his words. Why the principal? Why not detention? The principal always called home. Always. She gathered her books into her arms, taking slow steps to the front of the room.

"Mr. Flack, I'm sorry. Please, you don't understand-" She had never begged him, never even spoken to him unless he'd asked her a direct question. He squinted his beady eyes at her.

"I understand plenty, Miss Von Tussle. I understand that you're sleeping in my class, I understand that you'd obviously love to be anywhere else but here. Principal's office. Now."

She swallowed hard, and tried to ignore the whispers she heard as she turned to the classroom door, dragging her feet as she went out. He didn't understand that she'd rather be at school than home right now. Didn't understand at all.

She was right about the principal; he called Velma as soon as she passed him the note that Mr. Flack had given her, and Amber was banished to the humiliating row of chairs in front of the hallway to wait for her mother. She held her head down for what seemed like hours, waiting, and thanking God that Chip was still out of town. She had been dealing with the wrath of her mother for seventeen years and had only gotten a few smacks from her. She could handle that. She was used to that.

She closed her eyes again, letting her head fall into her hands as she thought about the way Corny had tried to reach out to her, and the way she had pushed him away. He was the only one who seemed genuinely concerned for her, that's was for sure, and it broke her heart to continue to build her defenses against him, but that was all she could do. She knew that if, by some chance, she did tell Corny, he would probably call the police, and they would probably believe Chip over her. And then what? They'd let him go, and he'd come and find her. She had nowhere else to go, and was stuck in that living hell. She was taking her life into her hands by even thinking about it.

When Velma arrived, she rolled her eyes at Amber before speaking with the principal, who said the normal things: disrespectful, distracting. She didn't take his words to heart; Velma herself had called her all of those things growing up. When her mother had finished the discussion, she motioned to Amber with a waggle of her fingers and let her high heels click noisily down the hallway as Amber scurried behind her, clutching her books.

The car ride home was bad, but not nearly as bad as it was to be in the house with Chip. Velma chided her: "How _dare_ you make me leave the studio to come down here." She had berated her, called her names, but that was fine. She let her head rest back against the seat, her eyes closing as the car glided through the streets. As long as she was in this car, she was safe. She knew Velma didn't care that she'd gotten in trouble at school. All that mattered to her was the fact that she'd interrupted her at work, and she'd stop being so angry about it in a few hours. She wasn't afraid of her mother, no matter how cold she could be.

She hadn't tried to mention the incident to Velma again, because there was no use. It would only cause another fight, and it wasn't as if Velma believed her anyway. She had begun to swallow the pain, to keep it hidden from everyone, and it had left a hard spot in her stomach. Each time she wanted to tell someone, she could feel it there, in the lower part of her belly, and she would bite her tongue. It was almost a type of self-preservation.

Velma pulled the car to a stop in front of the house and threw her fingers towards Amber, almost as if she were dismissing her.

"Go on, get out. I've got to get back to work." Amber had barely shut the door after her when Velma squealed away, leaving her in a trail of gray smoke. She sputtered for a moment, and climbed the stairs, letting herself in and dropping her books onto the couch. It was safe now, Chip wasn't here, and her stomach was hungry. She headed to the kitchen and grabbed an apple from the counter, spinning on her heels to retreat to her room, and ran straight into his chest.

He smirked down at her.

"I just got back into town, and your mama told me you been sleepin' in school, girl. You not gettin' enough rest at home?" She felt her body go stiff, and her fingernails dug into the apple. He pushed himself closer to her, "You lock yourself in that damn room twenty-four hours a day. What the hell you doin' in there if you ain't sleepin'?"

She tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry. She kept her eyes lowered to the ground, her teeth clenching together.

"Answer me," he pushed her hard, and she stumbled back against the kitchen table, smacking the back of her thighs against it. She cried out suddenly, and let the apple fall to the ground. She watched as it landed and rolled to sit right next to his foot. She gasped as he pushed between her legs to stand next to her, his eyes dark as he studied her face.

"You know what else your mama told me?" He looked like he wanted another answer, so Amber shook her head quickly, her breath coming in short, quick gasps. "She told me that you said I…._hurt_ you." He narrowed his eyes at her. "Did I hurt you, girl?"

Amber pressed her teeth into her bottom lip so hard that she tasted copper, and let herself shake her head again.

"N-no." Her voice was trembling; that was all she could say.

"So you lyin' about it?" It wasn't the answer he had wanted, apparently. Amber didn't know how to respond, so she held her breath, watching him. He let his fingers tickle the bare skin on her arm, and grabbed her face suddenly, holding her cheeks tightly with one hand.

"You don't know the meaning of the word _hurt_," his voice was dripping with malevolence, and Amber felt the familiar pain between her legs again. Her body began to shut down quickly, her mind turning off as she felt the first sob escape from the back of her throat. She quickly lost the sensation in her arms and legs, and felt his breath upon her skin. She squeezed her eyes shut, just like she always did, trying to erase this, block this from happening to her, but of course it wasn't enough.

When he had finished with her, he pushed her into her bedroom. Along with the burning pain between her legs, she could feel the blood trickling down her face, the heaviness underneath her eyes. He had been even more rough this time, there was no denying that. Before she even had the strength to pull herself to the mirror, she knew that she couldn't go to school tomorrow, couldn't be on the show.

She could already tell that it would take more than a fake smile to fool everyone this time, and she wasn't sure if she had the energy, even for that. At that moment, all she could think about, save the throbbing pain between her legs and the heavy swollenness in her face, was how much she wished she were dead.


	8. Angel

This is kind of a long chapter, but it's important, so I don't feel too bad about it!

Thanks for all the reviews, everyone! I love them!

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It was no surprise to her that she couldn't go to school, or the show, for the next three days. She had locked herself inside of her room, and, from the other side of the door, had yelled to her mother that she had a stomach virus, and couldn't attend school or the show. Velma had never been one to deal with illness, so she bid her good riddance and left for the studio. Chip was _finally_ out of the house, she had heard him telling Velma he was going to work, and Amber could breathe a little easier knowing that she was alone with her trauma. 

No amount of make-up had helped. She had gotten up at her usual time for school the day after he had attacked her, and she'd intended to go. She wanted to be out of the house, but once she caught the sight of her reflection in the mirror, she knew that it was a lost cause. She hadn't washed the blood from her face, hadn't iced her bruises. It was obvious that someone, or some_thing,_ had attacked her. One of her crystal blue eyes was shrouded beneath a purple and blue bruise, and her bottom lip was swollen and busted. She couldn't stand to walk through the halls of school like this, couldn't even begin to imagine showing her face on television. As if Velma would ever let that happen. She'd take one look at her and probably accuse her of doing it herself to accuse Chip of another crime that he certainly never could have committed.

So, she stayed in bed all day. Instead of laughing with her friends at lunch, she hugged herself, wanting so badly to be dead. Instead of twisting and dancing on the show, she had to grasp the wall, just to make it a few feet down the hallway to the bathroom. If the pain had been bad before, it was unbearable now. Her entire body was on fire, and in those days she fell into a restless sleep that left her with nightmares, made her wake up screaming, and sweaty. It was horrible.

She'd even thought about suicide. It would be so easy, she knew it. She could take one of the butcher knives in the kitchen. She could down the entire body of any one of Velma's various "prescriptions". She could, and no one would even care. No one would cry for her, or probably even come to her funeral. If she even had a funeral. They'd probably just drag her body to the dumpster and leave her with the trash. That's what she was slowly becoming: something that just belonged in the trash, like those torn, bloody panties she'd thrown away.

There was only one thing that stopped her from swallowing those pills, grabbing that knife. It was Chip. As much as she _hated_ him, as much as she wished she were dead every time she heard him enter the house, she knew that if she _did_ kill herself, he would win. It would be her ultimate submission to him, and he would know it. He would know that he had pushed her to do it, and she _refused_ to give him that pleasure. It was bad enough that he treated her body like it was his personal dumpster; she would _not_ let him take her soul.

In those three days, she learned so much. She learned to study the view from her window, learned which cars turned on which streets and the way their engines sounded. She knew that the birds began to chirp before the sun even rose, and the crickets carried on the job when the sun set. She learned that right before the sun rose, the light of the early morning would cast shadows over her room, and bathe the small space in a pink light. It made everything look so beautiful that sometimes, just sometimes, she forgot that she was in Hell. She forgot that there was a monster on the other side of the door, forgot that she was a victim, and sometimes let herself believe that this light was the answer to everything. Sometimes, that light made her feel like she was in Heaven, and took away all of her pain. Her thighs would stop hurting, and when she looked into the mirror all of her bruises and scratches had magically disappeared. She was beautiful Amber again, not the ugly victim.

Though, when the sun rose, and the bright light of morning spilled in, everything went back to normal. Her room went back to being her cell, her house the prison. Every morning, she knew it was coming, and yet every day when it actually happened, it broke whatever was left of her heart.

That evening, she was alone with him again. Her mother stayed until all hours of the night at the studio, just as she always had, despite the fact that it meant her boyfriend was left alone in the house with her teenage daughter to rape her whenever the hell he felt like it. Though the amount of solitude she had been in recently was enough to drive a person mad, she had become accustomed to it. It was never quiet inside her mind, anyway. She was always berating herself for doing something wrong, her temples were always pounding, her body throbbing. All of those noises were enough to keep her sane, enough to remind her that she'd rather be in here alone than out there with him.

When she heard the bathroom door shut and the shower turn on, she knew that she had enough time to get a drink of water, and walked as briskly as she could to the kitchen. She reached into the cabinet for a glass and then let the cool liquid spill down her parched throat, desperate for it to soothe the painful dryness in her mouth. As she began back towards her bedroom, the doorbell rang. She cursed under her breath, hoping that Chip couldn't hear it in the shower, and pressed her body against the door. Her fingers rested on the knob, and she opened it quickly, letting the side of her face that wasn't a swollen mess peer out at the person on the porch. Her heart began to pound in her chest at the sight of Corny, a small container in his hands.

"Oh God, what are you doing here?" She whispered the words to him desperately, and he smiled easily at her, pushing the container toward her.

"Velma said you had a stomach bug, so I brought you some soup." His naivety sent a pain through her chest, and she took a deep breath, pushing her face against the crack in the door as he watched her helplessly. Her eyes fell upon the container, and she bit on her bottom lip before remembering that it was split open, and whimpered softly. He watched her, still holding the container out to her.

"Uh, thanks," her voice was barely above a whisper, "Corny, you've got to go. You can't be here right now."

He cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Why?" He was challenging her. "You haven't even taken the soup I made for you."

She heard the stream of the shower shut off behind her, and her heart began to race. She had a decision to make, and needed to make it quick. She could either run as fast as her broken body would carry her back to her room, lock herself in. Or, she could join him on the porch. She could let him see the truth, let him inside of her world of hurt. Although she had made the decision to turn back to her room, the bathroom door creaked open sooner than she had expected, and there was no time. Without even thinking about it she stepped onto the porch and shut the door silently behind her, grabbing Corny's arm and pulling him around to a corner of the porch that couldn't be seen from the front door. She moved so quickly that he nearly dropped the soup, and she pushed her body against the brick house, holding her breath until they were fully covered by the wall.

"What are you do-" He peered down at her, and she, stupidly, looked up at him. His eyes grazed the bruises, the scratches, the busted lip. She saw his jaw go taut suddenly. "What the fuck." It was more of a statement than a question, and she turned her cheek against the wall of the house, quickly trying to hide the damage. She felt his eyes upon her, but made herself stare straight ahead, not looking at him, or anything in particular.

"Who did this to you?" There was a harsh edge to his voice, and when she didn't respond, he brought his hand to her face, lightly pressing his fingertips against the edge of her jawbone and turning her to look at him. She tried to keep her eyes focused on something, anything other than the concerned look on his face. Tried to focus on anything but the feel of his fingertips against her bruised skin, but she couldn't. She let her eyes meet his, her lips wrapping around words that she just couldn't say.

"No one." It was so ridiculous that she wasn't sure why she said it, and he clenched his jaw again, placing the container of soup on the porch railing.

"Stop lying to me." His voice was firm, and he let himself look away from her for a moment. "Your mother said you were sick. I brought you soup, to try and make you feel better." His voice cracked slightly, and she could see him swallow hard, "I can't fix _this_ with soup."

For the first time since Chip had originally raped her, she felt the tears welling inside of her eyes, and bit her lip to suppress a sob. The statement had broken her heart, and though she knew he'd meant it in the kindest way possible, it took on a whole new meaning for her. It told her that she was beyond repair. She had been telling herself that same thing, but had been hoping that not everyone saw it the same way she did. The fact that the one person who was reaching out to her had stated it, made her feel utterly hopeless.

"Did your mother do this to you?" He looked pale in the porch light, and Amber looked up at him, her golden eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"What? No, she-" She quickly remembered that he knew nothing about Chip. He didn't even know the man existed. He had no idea that beneath those bruises, beneath her clothes, was an entirely different world. A deeper pain than even he was prepared to deal with. "It wasn't my mother."

"Who was it, then?" He was glaring at her, "Link? One of the other council boys?" His cheeks were pink suddenly, his eyes dark, "Tell me if it was one of them, Amber. I'll make sure they get what they deserve."

It would have been so easy to say yes; to pin this all on Link. He was part of the reason, after all, that she had been raped the first time. He was the reason she had done her make-up and hair so perfectly, the reason she'd been wearing her finest dress. The reason that she'd looked so much like a pin-up girl that Chip couldn't help himself. Still, she knew that it wasn't _really_ Link's fault. He wasn't the one who had put these bruises on her. And though she resented him for not even trying to reach out to her, she couldn't do that to him.

"No, it wasn't Link," her voice was barely above a whisper. "It wasn't any of the council boys, or girls, for that matter."

"Damnit, Amber! Then who was it?" His voice was louder than either of them had expected it to be, and she flinched, pressing herself against the wall as she heard the front door open. Corny's eyes turned to look at the man standing in the doorway, wearing nothing more than a bathrobe.

"Who the hell are you?" She heard his gruff voice, and bit on her lip, making sure she was concealed by the wall, her knees trembling as she watched Corny's face. She knew he was at least a good six inches over Corny, but he didn't seem intimidated.

"Corny Collins. Who are you?" He watched him with cold, untrusting eyes.

"None of your damn business, that's who." She rolled her eyes at Chip's words, holding in her breath until she thought she might explode. "What the hell are you doing on my porch?"

"Your porch?" Corny confronted him, "This is Velma Von Tussle's house."

"Yeah, well it's mine, now, too." He took another step closer to Corny, and Amber pushed herself back further, but it was too late. Chip had seen her, and advanced towards her quickly. "What the hell. Get your ass back inside, you little bitch."

She shrieked as he grabbed for her, and instinctively lashed out at him, moving quickly behind Corny and burying her face into his back, her fingers digging into his waist. She felt him tense in her hold, and she knew immediately that he had figured it out. He had come face to face with the beast.

Chip grabbed for her again, and Corny pushed him back, hard.

"Don't you lay a damn hand on her." She let herself hug him, harder, her arms wrapping around him. He was suddenly her savior. The man she had always annoyed, pushed in front of on television; the man whose skin she had always tried to get under. He was her guardian angel.

"Excuse me? Who the hell are you to tell me what I can and cannot do? I should call the damn police on you for trespassing on private property. I know Velma sure would." He reached for Amber again, but Corny pushed him behind her.

"Call the police." Corny's voice was cold. "I'd like to see you explain how a seventeen year-old girl got that black eye, and that busted lip."

She knew that his words would get her into trouble later, but she couldn't think about that. Right now, he was here, and he was protecting her, and it was something that she so desperately needed, and craved. She needed to know that she was safe in the arms of someone, and he was offering to be that person. It was all she could concentrate on at the moment.

When Chip didn't respond to his words, Corny took it upon himself to speak again.

"Come on, Amber. You're coming with me." He turned quickly, grabbing her hand and leading her towards the steps. She heard Chip yelling behind them, but his words were a blur. She was moving quickly now, and then they were in his car. She felt the sob building in her throat as he pulled away, his face serious, his fingers clutching the steering wheel.

"Corny," she could barely speak the words, "you don't realize what you've just done. My mother could have you arrested…you could lose your job, go to jail…" she couldn't stand to think of the consequences.

She watched as he set his jaw, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

"And all of that would be better than what would have happened to you if I had let you stay there." His words were firm, and she knew they were true. It was painfully evident that he didn't know about the rape, didn't realize that she was a broken soul. He thought her wounds were superficial, and that she was only damaged on the outside.

And though she knew this wouldn't last, knew that the harsh consequences would inevitably follow, she let herself close her eyes, let herself relax. She couldn't deny it any longer. Corny had suddenly become her safe harbor, and she knew that he was the only thing standing between her and the monster.

The concern in his eyes, the white of his knuckles as he grasped the steering wheel, the way he looked at her worriedly when she began to tremble. Those simple actions suggested to her that maybe she was still capable of being loved by _someone_.


	9. Take

Wow! I think two days without posting is like a record for me! Anyway, I'm back, so enjoy!

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That was the first time she spent the night at Corny's house. Not to say that she slept, though, because sleep was a poor word choice for it. She'd been exhausted, from the fight, from the bruises, from the fear. He'd given his bed to her and had slept on the couch, but she'd lain awake all night, wondering, worrying. Scared to death that Chip would come for her, and, though she hated herself for it, worried that Corny would try to hurt her, as well. She wasn't afraid of him so much as she was afraid of the fact that he was a man, an older man who had a completely vulnerable seventeen-year old girl at his mercy. She tried not to let herself think about him that way; she knew he would never hurt her. Still, the doubt was in the back of her mind; the doubt that as long as she lived, she'd never be able to trust a man, no matter how nice he pretended to be.

She got through the majority of the night by focusing on the fact that she wasn't at home, and that Chip wasn't coming for her. He had no idea where Corny lived, or even who he was. Aside from the fact that he'd told him his name, he was a complete stranger. That was fine with Amber. She needed to be hidden away right now, away from any kind of world she recognized.

She was still awake when the sun began to rise, basking her room in the soft pink afterglow; that light that made everything so surreal, so peaceful. She turned on her side, letting herself gaze at the wall, tears burning her eyes as she tried to orchestrate some kind of plan; anything to get away from all of this. She would turn eighteen in less than a month now, but she had no idea what would happen after that. She didn't have a job, didn't have any money saved up. She'd always benefited from the fortune her father, and now her mother, had made from the studio, so she'd never seen any real reason to get a job. That was how the old Amber thought; jobs were for poor people, people that didn't have rich families. Clearly, that wasn't the case. Still, she had nothing. Her mother controlled their finances, and if Amber moved out when she turned eighteen that would be it; she would be homeless, broke, and completely alone. The thought made her want to cry suddenly, and she curled into the blankets of Corny's bed, burying her face in the feather pillows. They smelled like him, and she took a small comfort in that fact, because it concreted the fact that she wasn't in her own bed. It made it real.

She let the silent tears slip down her nose, and tried to wipe them away before they dripped onto the pillows. She let herself stay curled like that and crying until the pink glow had turned into the golden sunlight of morning. Even then, she didn't want to stop; didn't want to get up. She had become so accustomed to spending most of her day in bed, or wishing that she was in bed, that she'd lost whatever was left of her life.

There was a soft rap at the door, and she forced herself to turn, to look at the door.

"Yes?" Her voice was soft, and she hoped that he couldn't hear the tears in her voice as she spoke. She swallowed hard, and gently wiped at her eyes with her fingers, trying to erase the inevitable puffiness. She pulled the blankets tighter around her as she heard his voice on the other side of the door.

"May I come in?"

She nodded, before realizing that he couldn't see her.

"Yes."

He entered a moment later, carrying a small tray. He didn't look at her as he made his way to the bed, and pushed some objects on a bedside table out of the way to put the tray down. She glanced down at the glass of orange juice and toast on the tray. He stepped back.

"I thought you might be hungry. You look like you need to eat." He smiled softly at her, and she nodded softly.

"Thanks."

He left the room, closing the door behind him, and she let a trembling hand reach out and take the glass, bringing it to her lips. The acid in the juice burned her cut lip as it slipped past her lips and down her throat, but she drank it gratefully. She finished the juice and began to pick at the toast, but couldn't force herself to eat. She'd been depriving herself of going to the kitchen to get food for so long that she was sure her stomach had shrunk. She finally decided not to eat the toast, and let herself sit in his bed for another minute before finally finding the strength to get up. There was a pressure against her bladder, and she suddenly remembered that she didn't have to sneak around here. She could move freely without fear of being pounced upon.

She threw the covers off and opened the door, padding down the hall to the bathroom. She relieved herself, and then studied her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was a natural disaster, her make-up smeared. Her bruises had since turned an ugly blue color that made her look like a cheap hooker with too much eye shadow on. She swallowed the lump in her throat and reached for a wash cloth, gently cleaning the make-up from her face. When she looked into the mirror and realized that she was nothing special without her make-up, barely even a pretty face, she knew that she had done her job well. That was what she would let herself become; nothing special to look at. A regular girl with bags under her eyes and spots on her face, and then no one would look twice at her. No one would even want to think about touching her in any way. It was the way she could protect herself.

She made her way back down the hall, with every intention to climb back into bed, but spotted Corny on the couch, his head down in his hands. She stood behind him, watching him for a moment, her mouth dry.

"What happened?" She was almost afraid to ask the question; she knew what kinds of things he might say. He might have already been fired, or worse. Still, she had to know. The sound of her voice made him flinch, and he turned to look at her, standing quickly.

"Amber." He looked surprised to see her standing in the hallway. "Is everything okay?" It was such a randomly stupid question that he stuttered suddenly, "I mean, are you all right?"

She watched him with her cerulean eyes.

"What happened?" She asked the question again. "Were you fired?" Her mouth was dry.

"No," he shook his head, "not yet, anyway."

She stood silently in the hallway before perching on the side of the couch.

"You didn't have to do that, Corny." Though even as the words left her mouth, she knew that he _had_ needed to, and he wouldn't have been able to live with himself otherwise. He looked up at her, and she could tell that his eyes were studying her bruises. She willed her fingers to stay at her side, not to cover the bruises, because it was important that he see them, important that she began to accept them.

"There was no other choice, Amber. Anyone would have done the same thing." His voice was firm.

She could have protested, because it wasn't true. Anyone _wouldn't_ have done the same thing; in fact, he was the only one had had done it. They fell into a deep silence, and Amber felt the sickness in the pit of her stomach again. She would have to go home today. God, there was nowhere in the world she wanted to be less, and yet, she knew it was inevitable.

Amber felt the burn in her eyes at the thought, and she let herself stare down at the floor. She wasn't sure what to say to him, or what was going to happen now. He had no choice, he had to take her home, and then what? Would he just leave her there with Chip? She wanted to run, fly, swim, across the ocean, across the sky. Wanted to be anywhere but home. He couldn't just take her back there, back to the place that he had just rescued her from. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right. She deserved as much of a chance to live as anyone else. Taking her back there was sealing her fate.

"Hey," she heard his voice, and looked up at him, her eyes dark. His hands were in his pockets, and he was watching her. "Listen, I know this is hard, but I'm not….he's not going to hurt you again, Amber. You're going to be okay."

More than anything, she wanted to believe his words, but knew that he wasn't the one who would be at that house; he wasn't the one who was waiting for her to come back.

The heavy pounding on his front door caused them both to jump, and Corny looked toward the source of the sound suddenly. Amber flinched, moving quickly behind the door of Corny's bedroom, his eyes watching her as she huddled into the frightened heap she was.

He let himself pull the door open and came face to face with two stony faced police officers. She couldn't hear their conversation from her hiding spot, but the two men entered the apartment and began to speak in hushed tones. She knew why they were here; to arrest him, to drag her back to Hell. It wasn't hard to figure out. She stayed crouched behind the door for several more minutes, and when she heard footsteps approaching, she squeezed her eyes shut. Corny pulled the door open slightly, looking down at her with heavy eyes. He offered his hand to her, and she took it. The police officers must have left. They must have gone back to Velma and Chip and told them that she wasn't-

"Listen," he led her into the living room, where the two officers stood waiting, "they've come to take you home, Amber."

"What?" Her voice was soft, and she looked anxiously at Corny, "Why?"

"Because they _have_ to," his voice was low, "Amber, you're seventeen years old. You have to go home. They're not going to arrest me for taking you, because I know these guys personally. They're good guys; they won't let him hurt you again. You just have to go home."

"But I don't want to!" She realized that she sounded like a spoiled child, and had to resist the temptation to stomp her foot, "I don't want to go back there!" She reached for him, grasping his shirt with her fingers.

"I know," his voice was soft, and he let his fingers graze the skin on her arm. "But listen, he's not going to hit you again. The police have talked to him, and he's going to change. He said he was."

"You don't know him!" She choked on her tears, "He's _not_ going to change! He _can't_ change!"

The police reached out for her gently, and she batted them away.

"Corny, _please_! You don't understand, he'll _kill_ me if I go back there!" She held onto him, and he clenched his jaw. She could see the pain in his eyes; he _knew_ that it was true. He knew that Chip wasn't a different person than the one he'd been last night. Why was he forcing her to go back to that monster?

"He won't," he assured her softly, "these guys will make sure of it." He looked pained as he worked his fingers from her shirt, and the two uniformed men nodded at him understandingly as they took Amber by the arms and began to lead her to the door. She began to sob hysterically, reaching back for Corny like a child.

"Stop! Please! You don't understand, none of you understand! I don't want to go back there!" She broke free of their grasp and raced to Corny suddenly, her voice dropping to a low whimper, "I don't want to be alone with him."

Her arms hugged his waist, desperate for him to comfort her. He swallowed hard, and let his hand stroke the golden tresses that hadn't been curled and primped for so long that they hung lifelessly around her sad face.

"You will _never_ be alone, Amber. But these guys, they've talked to him, and he's going to get help. I'll check in on you. You'll be fine." He offered her the most supportive smile he could muster. "Amber, you're always welcome here, but you know that you can't stay here forever. You're just a kid; you have to go home." His voice broke as he spoke, but he hid it from her. He had no choice.

With those damning words, she let the police officers gently pry her from him, and choked back a sob at the fact that the only person who had cared enough about her to reach out, had just let her be pulled into the depths of Hell.

The worst part was, he didn't even seem to notice that he had just thrown her into the lion's den.


	10. Friend

I feel like such a slacker! I've been putting off writing chapters, but I'll get better, I promise.

Oooh, by the way, someone who reviewed asked me if I realized that the Council gets paid for being on the show. I do realize that. However, Amber may not... ;) Keep reading!

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When the police had taken her home after the first night she'd spent at Corny's apartment, Chip had taken on the role of doting assumed step-father, rushing to the door as the police rang the bell, ushering her into the house and placing a concerned hand on her shoulders as the police officers spoke to him in serious tones. She had gritted her teeth, letting her eyes burn an imaginary hole in the floor beneath her feet; then she could be swallowed up, assumed dead. It would have been better than being back there with his greasy fingers resting on the bare skin of her back. She had wanted to hit him, kick the police officers, run as fast as she could, but then where would she go? She couldn't go back to Corny. Apparently he was just like the rest of them; he thought she belonged here, in this hell hole. The only difference with him was, he believed her. 

She stood backstage at the show now, straightening her full, pretty skirts in a mirror and pretending that that was the most important thing in the world to her. She studied her reflection hard, letting the fingernails that had become brittle from lack of proper nutrition scratch down her dress. Her bruises were fading, though not completely gone yet. The purple bruises could be disguised by make-up, but not totally covered. Purple wisps traced the outline of her eye, and down one side of her silky cheek. It was enough to tell anyone that something wasn't right, but the make-up girls had stopped trying to cover it after Amber had begun to wince in pain.

Chip hadn't hit her since she'd been taken back to her house, almost a full week ago. In fact, he hadn't done anything to her. Hadn't even spoken to her, which, truth be told, terrified her beyond all reasonable belief. When he was hitting her, or even molesting her, she _knew_ where she was; what he was doing. But when he was quiet, and when she didn't hear him trying to break the lock on her door, it was agony. It was like sitting back and waiting for the snake to attack; it could happen at any time, and she had no idea what would be the one thing to set it off.

She heard high-heels clicking past her, and glanced up to see Velma, though not headed toward her. She wasn't a mother, not anymore; she was simply Velma Von Tussle. At the show, at home, it was the same. Velma didn't speak to her. Amber wasn't completely sure if it was because of Chip, or simply because she had no idea what to say. She'd caught Velma looking at her once, and had raised her eyes intentionally to her mother. She knew that she'd seen the bruises, the pain on the girl's face. She knew that, even though she'd averted her steely blue eyes seconds after Amber had initiated the contact between them, it was too late. Velma had seen the deep cut in her lip, the bruises that were attempting to hide beneath the make-up. Even if Velma would never say it, Amber now knew that she had seen the pain on her face. She assumed that moment of truth between them was what kept pushing them apart.

As her mother passed, she began toward the stage, letting herself build momentum with each step she took. She didn't want to see Corny right now, not after how he'd thrown her into the ring of fire and left her to burn. Still, part of her knew that she needed to. She needed to have that reassurance; that he had told the truth about being concerned for her. Something inside of her was craving that concerned look on his face.

"Amber," she heard a voice behind her, and turned, fully expecting to see Corny, his worried eyes, the frown engraved onto his face. She blinked as she turned to look at Link, his blue eyes searching for hers. It was the first time he had spoken to her since that night. "Listen, we-" He paused, his eyes tracing over the faint purple markings on his face. He looked into her eyes suddenly for answers to the bruises, his dark brows furrowed slightly in confusion. "I need to talk to you."

She felt herself nodding, and realized how easy it would be to escape from all of this, to cover her bruises from him and pretend nothing was wrong. She didn't want to tell him what had happened, but some part of her wanted him to see it; she wanted him to realize the living hell she was in. Amber followed him backstage, and she watched him as he shifted nervously. She folded her arms over her chest, waiting for him to speak. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and he glanced up at her.

"I'm sorry about that night," it wasn't necessary for either of them to specify which night, because they both knew. Link remembered it as the night he'd stood her up, Amber remembered it as the first night she'd been raped. It was funny how different it could be for different people. "I didn't expect for that to happen." He continued with his shallow apology, "I just…I'm sorry."

He stood back, obviously hoping it would be enough. Amber could see the regret in his eyes, she knew that he meant his words, but some part of it just wasn't enough for her; she wanted to hear more from him.

"You could have called," she let the words slip out, her voice breaking, "I felt like an idiot, Link. I just sat around waiting for you." It was nothing compared to what had happened later that night, but she felt the words needed to be said. Amber had never been one to discuss her feelings openly, but even hearing Link apologizing for such a trivial thing as this made something inside of her begin to heal. She felt fresh tears burning in her eyes, and tried to focus on anything other than him. She saw him swallow hard from the corner of her eye, and saw his dark head nodding.

"I know," he sounded so vulnerable that she glanced back at him, "I'm sorry. It's just-" he paused, and then bit on the inside of his lip, "Amber, I took someone else to the dance."

She had known it, even before he'd said it, and let her blue eyes meet his again. She had known it when his mother had lied; there was no reason to deny it. Still, she had. She had hoped he'd come back to her.

"I know," she let the words slip out as a whisper, "I knew that, even as I was waiting for you." She felt the need to ask, even though she knew it didn't matter. Any semblance of a relationship they'd had, it was over now. It had been over for months, and she'd been too ignorant to pay attention to the signs. The cancelled dates, the glossed-over stares when she spoke to him, the muttered responses to her questions. They had added up quickly, and she wasn't an idiot. She'd noticed them. "Who did you take?"

There was something so lost in his eyes that she couldn't be mad at him; she couldn't hate him for doing this. She couldn't blame him for not wanting a broken girl when there were a million others, still in tact, that were willing to bow down at his feet.

"Tracy," her name left his lips, and though Amber expected to be shocked, or make a snide remark, she felt herself nodding. "I've actually been seeing her for a while now." She had known it. It didn't matter much now, anyway. It's not like she thought there was a chance for reconciliation between the two of them; the very last thing she was interested in was any kind of romantic relationship. He glanced toward her, expecting her to be furious, to throw things and scream at him, scratch his eyes out. She knew that without even saying it, it was what she should have done. It was what everyone expected of her. Still, she couldn't find the strength to be angry, much less care.

"Did you have fun at the dance?" She asked the question, trying not to remember that when they were dancing, laughing, holding hands, Amber was being pinned to her bed, being violated. She tried not to think about the fact that while Tracy and Link were sharing soft kisses, Chip had stuck his tongue into Amber's mouth, probing her with it.

"Yeah," he nodded sheepishly, "It was nice." He looked awkward suddenly, having a conversation about his new girlfriend with the one he had stood up, "I still should have called you, that night. I shouldn't have done that to you."

She knew that Link had never been one to admit his defeat, at least not to her, and she nodded softly.

"You're right, you shouldn't have." Her eyes felt heavy suddenly, her legs weak. She wanted to sit down, but needed to finalize this with Link. "It doesn't matter, Link. I'm not going to fight for you."

She realized that the words sounded conceited, even catty, but she didn't care. It wasn't how she'd meant it. She didn't have the strength or passion to fight for him, because she didn't want him. She didn't want him to touch her, or kiss her anymore. She didn't want to feel his hands working at the clasp of her bra, didn't want to feel their skin pressed against each other. There was nothing even remotely attractive about that to her, not since Chip had touched her. If Link needed it, he could get it. Amber didn't have to be the one to give it out.

She reached into a pocket on her dress suddenly, her fingers finding the heavy gold ring. She turned it over in her fingers, trying to remember when this simple ring had been an object of obsession for her. She'd spent years fantasizing about it, and then, when Link had actually given it to her, she assumed the rest of her life had been laid out ideally before her. One day, she assumed this class ring would become a wedding band, and they'd marry in a huge ceremony. It would be the event of the year, and only the most prestigious guests would attend. Maybe her mother would even televise it, and, in credit to their Baltimore popularity, it would be the highest rated television event of the summer. She would wear a white, lacy gown that flowed around her ankles, and he would look handsome in the black suit she would pick out for him. They would be pronounced husband and wife, and then they would kiss, thereby completing her perfect life.

Now, though, this ring didn't seem to be much at all. All of the hopes and dreams that had come with it when he had given it to her were gone. She pulled it out of her pocket, her delicate fingers offering it to him. He stared at it blankly for a moment, and then reached out to take it, forcing a tight smile back at her.

"Thanks." He slipped it into his pocket, and she nodded slightly.

"Link," she felt so weak, so totally out of character that he looked worriedly at her for a moment, "I just…I need a friend. Really, really badly." Her eyes stung with tears, "I've pushed all of the council girls so far away from me, I can't get them back." She looked to him desperately, and saw something in his eyes that she'd never seen before: sympathy. She knew it would sound stupid, but she had to take the chance. He could read the bruises on her face, the pain in her eyes. He knew that the old Amber was gone, though he didn't even pretend to know why. He recognized the purple splotches; he'd seen them enough on Amber when she'd fallen on set, bumped her knees, hurt her ankle. But never on her face. You didn't get bruises like that on accident.

"Can we be friends, Link?" She almost expected him to say no, and couldn't have blamed him if he had. She expected him to remember all those times, when they'd been dating that she'd treated him like her property, ordered him around. It wasn't easy to forget the way she'd treated him like a pure-bred puppy. Still, she asked the question, because she needed an answer so desperately.

He smiled at her then, and it wasn't the forced smile he'd been giving her for the last few months. It wasn't the humor-me smile that she'd been accepting because she was too jealous to deal with the truth. It was a real smile, and that was enough for her.

"I've always wanted to be your friend," he nodded, "I'd like to be your friend. We just couldn't get past the rest of our problems."

She let the corners of her mouth turn into a tired smile for him, and he touched her arm supportively.

He had no idea what the word '_problem_' meant. She would have given anything to be debating over which movie to see, or where to go for dinner. He didn't realize that, though. He didn't realize that she was no longer living the charmed life she'd once been assigned.


	11. Protector

Throughout that entire next week, Amber didn't get to see Corny much except on the actual show, and, much to her surprise, Chip stayed surprisingly quiet. That's not to say that she wasn't still afraid of him; every time she heard the floorboards outside of her bedroom creak, she knew it was him, coming back to kill her. Each time she heard the front door open, she could only assume that he was back to get her with a vengeance.

And though it happened in an almost unconventional way, she and Link had become good friends, maybe for the first time since they'd met. Suddenly, there was no jealousy, anger, or resentment on her part. Since Tracy wasn't in their lunch period, Link and Amber often sat together at the end of the lunch table, surrounded by their fellow council members but not really paying much mind to any of them. Amber would bow her head and say things to Link, things that the other council members didn't necessarily need to hear; things about her mother, things about Chip. She had finally told him about Chip, of course, and had explained to him that she despised him, had told him that he talked to her awful. That was, however, as far as it went. She had already, no matter how inadvertently, let Corny in on her secret, and even one person knowing about it made her uncomfortable.

Link would always listen patiently, watching her with a genuine concern that she didn't get from anyone else, save Corny. She would feel her eyes beginning to burn with tears as she spoke, and he would shake his head, as if to say, "You don't have to talk about this, not if you don't want to," but the thing was, she did _want_ to talk about it. She just had no idea how to.

Although he didn't completely understand why, he knew that Amber never wanted to go home. She would stall as long as she could after the show, and nearly missed the bus everyday; she would hang around school until even the detention kids were gone. And so, on the days that shows didn't take place, Link and Amber would take long, meandering walks home. Amber wasn't exactly sure of what Tracy thought about her prospective boyfriend spending so much time with an old girlfriend, but she wasn't in the position to care too much. She finally had a friend, and she could speak to him open and willingly, like no one else she'd ever known. She suddenly just needed to be selfish; to be able to hold onto Link when she wanted to. Honestly, it was closer than they'd ever been while dating, without the added stress of having to worry about any kind of awkward intimacy.

The day before Amber turned eighteen years old, Link walked her home. It was the usual for a show-less day, and they spent the entire length of the walk chatting casually about everything and nothing at all. It was the first time in months that she'd felt so good; she took long, deep breaths, filling her lungs with the cool air of early fall. The sky was an endless blue, and a gentle breeze swept the remaining dead leaves out of the trees and onto the ground. It was perfect weather for a perfect day.

Link slowed as they came to her house, and smiled back at her as she began to unlatch the gate in front. He stood watching her, his hands in his pockets, and she turned to smile at him.

"Do you want to come up for a few minutes?" It was a risky question, she knew. Chip would probably be home; Link would probably get that vibe from him, the some one Corny had gotten, but she couldn't stop herself from asking the question. Still, she was the tiniest bit nervous as she watched him nod, and held the gate aside for him to follow her up the stairs.

She pushed through the front door, and exhaled quietly at the silence in the house. He must be gone. She smiled, placing her books on a side table and moving towards the kitchen.

"I need to use the restroom. Excuse me, Amber." Link disappeared down the hallway, and Amber nodded over her shoulder at him.

"Okay. Do you want a snack?" She pulled the Frigidaire door open, her fingers tapping the door as she waited for his response. "We don't have much. You know my mother, she won't let me anything with calories in it." But those words took on a new meaning suddenly; tomorrow, she would be a legal adult. She could move out, never speak to her mother or Chip again. She was beginning to think that this day couldn't get any better.

She felt warm hands on her shoulders suddenly and smiled, turning around.

"Link, do you-"

But it wasn't Link. His dark eyes stared down at her, burning into her soul. She felt the lump in her throat suddenly, her knees beginning to buckle under his intense stare.

"What are you doing, little girl?" His tone of voice was so eerie, so terrifying that she felt tears burning at her eyes. "Who you talkin' to, your imaginary friend? You sure as hell don't have any real ones."

Amber felt herself shaking her head, and glancing behind his massive shoulders to see if Link was coming yet. She felt her breath becoming rapid and unsteady, and squeezed her eyes shut, her hand still gripping the open door of the refrigerator.

"No," she whimpered the words as his fingers came up to trace her cheek, "Chip, please, no."

He sneered at her, and Amber suddenly saw a dark head from behind Chip's shoulders. She shook out of his grasp suddenly, rushing to stand by Link, who had stopped and was watching with a glare of utter confusion. She felt her fingers working around Link's arm, covering herself with him.

"Who's this?" Chip grunted loudly. Link stood watching him for a moment, his blue eyes wide and his jaw slightly slacking. He cleared his throat and took a step toward Chip suddenly, offering his hand.

"I'm Link, sir." Chip watched him suspiciously and then glanced back at Amber, who had narrowed her eyes into blue slits of hatred that she directed at him. Link stammered for a moment, and finally withdrew his hand, shoving it back into the pocket of his pants. He glanced down at the floor, and Chip mumbled at him.

"This your boyfriend?" He pushed Amber's shoulder slightly, making her stumble backwards before catching herself. She shook her head slowly, and Link turned to watch the scene unfold in front of him. Chip scoffed, and turned to look at Link. "She's a damn liar, is what she is."

Link's cheeks flushed dark pink, and he glanced at Amber, whose gaze had started to drop the floor. He stammered quickly.

"Uh, no, uh…we're just friends, really," he nodded encouragingly, trying to force his lips into a smile. "It's cool." He sent Amber a soft smile, but she didn't return it.

"Cool?" Chip mocked his tone, "Are you two foolin' around?"

"No, sir," Link stuttered suddenly, and Amber pulled her head up suddenly.

"Don't call him 'sir', Link. He's not even a _man_, much less a 'sir'." Her tone was angry; she was suddenly full of fire. She knew that her words would probably have dire consequences, but she couldn't stop herself from saying them, "Just go home, Link. This is going to get messy." Her eyes met Chip's, and she suddenly knew that he had considered her words a challenge.

"No," Link spoke up suddenly, "I think I should stay."

Amber's face flushed at his words; no one had ever done that for her, save Corny, who she suddenly wished were here as well.

"Go home, boy," Chip was angry now, his dark eyes gleaming, "before you find yourself a world of hurt."

Link set his jaw, and swallowed hard.

"I think I've already found it, actually."

Amber gasped softly at his words, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. She was suddenly more afraid than she'd ever been around Chip. This time, he wasn't only threatening her, but Link? She could let herself be hurt; she was used to the bruising and the scratches, but Link didn't deserve any of that.

"Link, stop it!" She hissed his name suddenly, and he turned to look at her, his face serious. She took hold on his arm and quickly ushered him out of the house and onto the front porch. "You don't know what you're doing, Link."

He sniffed loudly, leaning his head in close to hers.

"What has he been doing to you, Amber?" He studied her face for a moment, "Is he hurting you?" She kept her eyes lock on his, trying to tell him everything without saying a word. He swore under his breath, and hit his hand against the brick of the house. Link shot off all the questions that even she didn't have the answers to. "Why does he do that to you? Why does he feel like he has the right to hurt you in any way?" She didn't answer him; couldn't answer him. Suddenly, his tone changed, his words caused her to look up at him, his dark eyebrows furrowed. "_We have to do something about this, Amber_."

Those words haunted her for the rest of the night. She had eventually convinced Link to go home, and that she could manage on her own. Returning to the house hadn't been as easy. Chip had been furious at her actions, and her words; so mad, in fact, that he'd done little more than push her against a wall and smack her in the face. For that, she considered herself fortunate.

When she woke up from a restless sleep the next morning, on her eighteenth birthday, she was sure of it. _Today_ would be the day that would change her entire world. The only thing was, she had no idea how much of a change she was in for.


	12. Cry

This is kind of a long chapter, and **_very_** intense. I hope it was worth the wait, and I'll definitely start updating more often. Anyway, I'm going to shut up now and let you read.

* * *

Her birthday started out surprisingly well. Her entire life, she'd hated that her birthday fell in autumn, because that usually meant that she had to go to school. This year, however, as much as she wished that it _was_ on a school day, it was on a Saturday. That meant an entire day of hiding in her room, or getting up before Chip did, just so she could sneak out and risk being beaten to death when she came home later that night. 

She sighed as she slipped out of bed and heard her stomach growl. She was hungry; she hadn't eaten anything since lunch at school the previous day, and today, of all days, she should have at least been able to eat when she wanted. She pressed herself against her bedroom door, listening carefully to the quiet on the other side of the door. It was still early, he wasn't awake yet; she could easily sneak out and grab food.

She moved quickly, her feet shuffling her into the kitchen as she threw open the refrigerator door and began to gather food like she was on a hunt. When her hands were full, she kicked the door shut with her bare foot and began to creep back to her room when something on the kitchen counter caught her eye. It was nothing big; in fact, it was just a tiny envelope, but printed clearly in big, black letters was her name.

She slipped it between her fingers and scurried back to her room, letting her food rations drop onto her bed as she turned the envelope over in her fingers. It was sturdy, and she knew immediately that it was a birthday card. She slid her finger under the paper and tore it open carefully, her fingers working to pull the card out.

It was nothing special; a white card with the words "Happy Birthday" written on the front in golden cursive letters. She opened the card carefully, and two crisp hundred dollar bills slid into her lap. Her jaw went slack and she gathered them in her hand, glancing at the few words that were written inside the card beneath the trite, pre-printed birthday greeting.

_Happy Birthday, Amber._

_Mother_

That was it. No '_Love, Mother_'. No sentimental words about the fact that her little girl was now an adult. As much as that might have hurt her, she didn't let it bother her; not today. Because without even realizing it, Velma had given her the most important thing with that money; she'd given her a chance to start a new life. It was probably one of the ugliest birthday cards she had ever seen, and Amber was more than certain it would be _the_ last birthday card she ever received from her mother. If things went according to plan, Velma wouldn't even be able to find her to _send_ her a birthday card, even if she wanted to. That was Amber's dream, because as long as Velma couldn't find her, Chip couldn't either.

Amber hurried to fold the money into the back of her wallet, into a small space behind her school identification card, so that it wasn't visible unless someone physically moved the card. She folded it carefully, so as not to rip it, and then stored her purse under her bed, back in its usual hiding spot.

At a little after four, the doorbell rang, and Amber let her feet carry her to open it. She smiled softly as she saw Corny on the other side of the threshold, and he offered her a weak smile.

"Happy birthday," he said the words softly, and she nodded, watching him with her crystal eyes, "You're finally an adult, Amber."

She was sure those words had some kind of connotation behind them, and nodded.

"Thank you, and yes, I am."

He stood awkwardly for a moment, letting his hand come up to rub the back of his neck. He shifted, and then pulled a small box from inside his suit pocket, clutching it in his hand before offering it to her.

"This, uh," he stammered for a moment, "This is for you."

Amber took the box into her fingers, clutching it for a moment before nodding up at him.

"Okay. Thank you." She hesitated to open it in front of him, and when she began to pull the lid off, he stopped her.

"Just wait until you need it before you open it, okay?" He swallowed hard, "You might not need this. In fact, I really hope you _don't._ But, just in case you do, it's yours, Amber. I've wanted to give you this for a while, but I couldn't. Not until today."

She furrowed her brows at him, the corners of her lips turning into a soft smile. What a strange thing to say about a birthday present. Of course, with the twisted world she'd been living in, she wouldn't pretend to understand.

"Okay," she nodded again, "I'll save it." The corners of her mouth twitched into a curious smile, "But how will I know when I need it?"

He forced his lips into a tight smile.

"Believe me, you'll know." He shuffled his feet for a moment, "I should get going. I've got to get down to the studio to help your mother with some things." He gave her another awkward smile, "Have a happy birthday, okay?" She couldn't help but let her mind reel as she closed the door behind him. She'd never seen Corny so…unkempt. It made her wonder what was inside the box and her fingers itched to open it.

Link called her again, just to reiterate the fact that he _would_ be there at 8:30 sharp to take her out for a birthday dinner. She had giggled, pretended to be whole again. It felt so easy with him, because he didn't judge her. He had accepted her scars, even her emotional ones, and had learned how to love the person she was behind them. In spite of everything, she let herself begin to want to open up to Link, tell him everything, without abandon. She knew that one day, she would. She just wasn't completely sure when.

By the time darkness began to fall, she heard the front door open. Her breath caught in her throat, but only for a moment, because she knew tonight was different. She was an adult, and she could leave. She could disappear forever, and they would have no control over her. She let herself relax, if only slightly, and moved to her record player, studying the record title before slipping it onto the player and listening as the opening notes of the music filled her room. _Big Girls Don't Cry_, by the Four Seasons. How very appropriate.

She moved back to her bed, handling the box that Corny had given to her. She knew she needed to start getting ready; Link would be here in less than an hour. Still, her fingers held the box. When she heard her bedroom doorknob turn, she shoved the box behind her back, burying it beneath a pillow as Chip let the door swing open.

She felt her blood go cold, and glared up at him with icy eyes.

"Get out," she wasn't afraid of saying those words now.

He narrowed his dark eyes at her, moving into the room slowly and closing the door behind him. She felt her body becoming paralyzed slowly, but scrambled to move from her bed, her legs suddenly feeling like they were composed of mud. She couldn't find her feet, couldn't move fast enough, and he moved toward her.

"Birthday girl, huh?" She pushed herself against the wall, and his dirty hand reached out to stroke her ankle, grabbing at her foot. "You know what that means?"

Amber didn't respond, but she knew exactly what it meant. She knew that it meant she could, and would, leave. It meant that she never had to come back here, never had to see his disgusting face again.

"It means," he began slowly, "that you're legal. It _means_ that I can do whatever the hell I want to you now."

"What's the difference?" She sneered suddenly, "You've been doing that all along, you asshole." She knew it was the wrong thing to say, and her heart stopped at the malevolent look he shot at her.

"You little bitch," his words were almost said with a laugh, "You think you're damn cute, don't you? You think you can say whatever you want, just 'cause your mama runs the damn TV station." He grabbed for her foot again, and she delivered a swift kick to his ribs. She had hoped it would at least knock the air out of him, long enough for her to run past him, but he recovered quickly, and grabbed her ankle.

"Don't touch me!" Her words were shrill, louder than she ever remembered them sounding before, "Don't touch me! I swear to God, I'll fucking kill you!"

The statement surprised even her, and she began to tremble at the sound of her own words. The fact that she wanted it to be true was what scared her the most.

His hold on her tightened, and he grabbed her other foot. She began to smack at him, to punch him, to spit on him, and he sneered at her.

"You don't have to deny it anymore, girl. I know you like these little meetings we have." His hand traced up her leg, and she smacked him away, the hatred rising in her throat. He glanced up at her, his dark eyes flashing. "You wanna be rough today?" He pulled her feet suddenly, so hard that the back of her head slammed against the wall and she let out a squeal of pain, the tears rushing to her eyes. "Okay, we'll be rough."

He pushed her legs apart forcefully, and she cried out loudly, clawing up at him, trying to pull out of his grasp.

"Stop!" She pleaded again, "Stop, please, stop! It's my birthday, please!" It was a pathetic excuse, she knew, but it was all she had. Her strength was dwindling quickly, and he glared down at her.

"I know it's your birthday," he admitted, his tone tinged with sarcasm, "that's why I was gonna be nice, and gentle with you tonight. But since you're being such a little brat, you changed my mind." He delivered a hard slap to the inside of her thigh, and she cried out loudly, the skin already pink and irritated.

"Ouch!" She knew it was stupid, he didn't care that he was hurting her, but the sting brought tears to her eyes, and she bit on her lip so hard that it drew blood immediately. He slapped her again, and she arched up in pain, making a conscious effort to send her body into a state of numbness. It had gotten easier, since he'd started this. She tried to focus on something other than the pain, other than the way his hands were pulling her panties down. Tried to listen to the cars outside as she felt his hand working up her body, pulling her shirt off. She began to kick aimlessly, tried to scratch his eyes out with her fingernails, but he caught her hand, twisting it so hard that, for a moment, she thought it was broken. Suddenly, she could only focus on one thing: the music coming from the record player.

_Big girls don't cry  
Big girls don't cry_

She tried to stop her tears, tried not to let him see her break down again. As if cued by the music, she heard Chip's words suddenly, as his hands reached up to tug Amber's hair out of its neat bun.

"That's right, you're a big girl now," he purred the words, letting his fingers run down her cheek, dancing along her pink lips. He tried to force his finger into her mouth, and she bit him, as hard as she could. He cursed loudly and recoiled, but only before cupping his hand and pushing it against the spot just beneath her jaw, pinning her to the wall. She began to sputter for breath, and he grabbed her harder, his dark eyes gleaming. She knew her air supply was being depleted quickly, and gasped, her fingers trying to free his fingers from her neck. She began to see black stars, began to feel her mind spinning, and felt her body beginning to go limp. Then, just as quickly as it had happened, he let go, taking a step back from her.

"You gonna be a good girl now?"

She could barely breathe, much less answer, and let herself slump against the wall.

"That's what I thought."

His hands worked quickly, and she let her eyes close. It was easier just to disassociate herself with this situation; it was easier to pretend she was somewhere else. She could try to remember how to do the Stricken Chicken, try to remember what steps to take, when to move her arms. She had almost removed herself from the moment when she felt his hot, rank breath between her legs, and she began to feel the tears swell in her eyes. It was beyond horrible; this was, by far, the worst thing he had ever done to her. He began to bite her, just to hear the pained cries that escaped from her. She finally began to let herself sob, her body wracking as her mind tried to focus on the music that was playing in the background of this nightmare come true. She tried to focus on every word, every syllable of the music, and let herself fall completely limp, letting the words of the song swim in her mind.

_Shame on you, your mama said  
Shame on you, you're crying in bed  
Shame on you, you told me lies  
Big girls do cry_

It seemed like an eternity, but she eventually went numb from the pain. She had, thankfully, passed out sometime soon after, and when she woke again, he was gone. Her head was throbbing, and the place on her neck where he had pinned her against the wall felt like she had rope burn. The inside of her thighs stung from his hard blows, and she coughed slightly, her eyes rolling back in her head as she tried to muster enough energy to get up. She glanced at the clock; it was already 8:15. She was leaving when Link got here; there was no question about that. She felt herself sobbing quietly, and her breath caught in her throat when she realized her purse, and wallet, were lying open on the floor. She cried softly, moving as quickly as she could to grab the wallet. Her fingers trembled, and she hesitated to open it. If that money was gone, she had no idea what she'd do. That money was the one thing that assured her a chance at freedom.

Her eyes still blurry with tears, she peeled her school identification card back. When she saw the green bills beneath, she began to cry again, though this time out of relief.

She wanted time to grieve over this, just like always, but had none. She needed to get dressed, needed to be there waiting when Link pulled up. She didn't even bother to brush her hair, didn't even look into the mirror. She pulled on an old dress, one that her mother wouldn't even allow her to wear when she left the house. She was frantic suddenly, moving at rapid speed. She grabbed her purse, slipped into her shoes, and suddenly remembered that box beneath her pillow; the one Corny had given to her.

She hurried to it, her fingers tearing it open without hesitance, her eyes burning as she looked upon the object inside. It was a house key.

She began to tremble suddenly, and rushed out of her door, through the hallways and down the porch steps. She didn't care that Chip had heard her, didn't care that he might be chasing her. She let herself move as quickly as her sore body could, and she ended up meeting Link's car as she raced down the sidewalk. He barely had time to stop before she pulled the door open and moved inside, crying hysterically. She screamed suddenly, telling him to drive, and he did. She already knew where she needed to go.

When they reached the front door of Corny's house, Amber began to pound on the door with her fists, let her lungs explode with the scream that tore through her. When he opened the door, she was trembling, and he let his eyes graze the fingerprint-shaped bruises on her neck, the blackness of her eyes, the brokenness of her body. With quivering fingers, she held the key up to him, still clutching it in her palm. She felt her jaw quivering as she tried to repress a sob, her eyes watching him with what little bit of hope she still had.

He swallowed hard, nodded, and blinked.

"Welcome home, Amber."

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**Am I the only one that's creeped out by the fact that the song I used "Big Girls Don't Cry" was the number one song in the country at the time that this chapter is supposed to take place? That really freaked me out**.


	13. Shattered

See? I told you I'd get better at updating!

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Amber had finally collapsed from sheer exhaustion sometime after Corny and Link helped her inside. She'd tried so hard to stay awake, to explain her plans to them; to tell them that she was going to get a job, save up money. Tell them that she would _never_ go back to that house unless they drug her dead body inside. But she couldn't find the words, or the strength. Her voice was broken from screaming, her eyes dry from crying. She couldn't even begin to break down the horrors that she had seen, the terror that she had experienced. It had been a long day, and she was beyond any capable means of functioning. She could barely remember them helping her into this room with walls so light pink that they looked like the inside of a flower.

When she woke the next day, the sun was high in the sky, and her body was drenched in a cold sweat. She began to panic immediately, screaming at the sudden thought that Chip could walk through that door anytime; or maybe he had already been here, and that explained this cold, damp wetness that veiled her body. Either way, she let the sound explode in her lungs, screaming, kicking, crying hysterically. She was too delirious to realize that this wasn't that place; this wasn't where the monster resided.

In fact, she didn't realize it at all until Corny pushed through the door, his face molded into a mixture of shock and worry. He rushed toward her suddenly, grasping her flailing arms and holding her tight, his strong hands pushing her hair down, his voice whispering softly to her.

"Amber! Amber, calm down." He withstood the blows that she dealt him without realizing that it wasn't Chip, and his arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly as she sobbed against him. "Sweetheart, it's okay. It's all right." Her body went limp suddenly and he gathered her into his arms, his body moving slightly as he began to rock her like a child. "He's not here," even saying the words put a lump in his throat, and he tried to force it down as he felt her tears seeping through his shirt and into his skin, "He's not going to hurt you again, baby."

They stayed that way for a long time, and he held her like she was an oversized rag doll, his fingers stroking her matted blonde hair, charcoal tears dripping down her cheeks. She clutched at his shirt with her fingernails, desperate to get herself closer to him.

"Make him stop, Corny. Please, just make him go away," her whimpers were so soft and childish that it broke his heart, and she felt his hold strengthen around her. "I don't want to be hurt anymore," the words slipped from between her trembling lips, "He's already destroyed me, Corny."

She felt herself shuddering in his arms, and he let his chin rest against the top of her head, clenching his jaw tight.

"He's not going to hurt you again." That was his solemn vow. If it killed him, he'd make sure that man never laid a hand on Amber again.

She was silent for a moment, and her tears gave way to the soft, pathetic aftershock of sobs.

"He's probably going to come kill me." Her words were so soft that he almost didn't hear them. She swallowed hard against him, her knees pulled up into his lap. "But he doesn't know there's nothing left to kill. I'm already dead inside."

Her words sent a pain through his chest, and he hooked his fingers beneath her chin, gently directing her face up to look at him.

"Hey," his voice was so soft, "you are _not_ dead inside. You're just a little broken, Amber."

She watched him with her large, empty eyes, but didn't make any attempt to acknowledge his words. She slumped against him again, squeezing her eyes shut and letting a solitary tear roll down her cheek. She didn't try to push it away.

"I'm more than a little broken, Corny." She whispered the words into the fabric of his shirt, "I'm shattered."

He let his teeth dig into his bottom lip, chewing on it while he held her.

"You just need a chance to start over, Amber." He felt odd saying the words to the girl who had once had _the_ perfect life. The girl that had once scoffed at others for wearing the same dress to school twice a month; the girl who had turned her nose up at the prospect of dancing on the show with anyone who didn't stock fancy foods like caviar in their kitchen cupboards. She had been knocked down, and quickly. As tragic as it was, it was also heartbreakingly beautiful. "I'm going to help you start over, okay?" He was still rocking her now, his arms gathering her into a crumpled heap, "We are going to fix you."

She listened to his words, her head resting against his chest.

"You can't fix something that's beyond repair," she nodded slightly, "Corny, there's so much more than you understand. It's so much more horrible than you could imagine."

She sniffed against him, not bothering, or wanting, to move. It was an unimaginable bliss there in his arms; it was the kind of comfort she'd never gotten from anyone. Those arms were suddenly her haven, and she closed her eyes, another tear slipping down her cheek. She suddenly began to thank God for Corny. She was lucky that she had him, lucky that he cared enough about her to do this for her. The thought of what might have happened if she hadn't had Corny to confide in made her stomach feel queasy. It made her wounds ache, made the area between her legs begin to throb.

"What did Link do last night?" Amber wondered suddenly, still not moving. "Was he okay?"

"He's fine," Corny soothed her, "he stayed for a while after you fell asleep." He wanted to tell her how desperate his eyes had been, how lines of worry had creased his forehead, but knew he couldn't. The last thing she needed now was to know that she was worrying others. "He cares about you a lot, Amber."

She nodded against his chest, her eyes drooping.

"He's a good friend." She felt tired again suddenly, and let herself begin to nod off, her body going limp in his arms. Her fingers slid from their grasp on his shirt, and he cradled her body for another moment before sliding her back into the bed.

He pulled the blankets over her, letting his fingers stroke the unkempt hair that fell around her face. She sighed softly beneath his touch, and he curled his fingers into tight fists, shoving them into his pockets. It was hard to watch her like this; he had always seen Amber at her strongest points; she had always been brash, and irresponsible, and he had always considered her a nuisance. Seeing her like this, she was like a child again. She was so vulnerable, so completely heartbroken. It was painful, just to watch.

He wondered if she was curious that he'd cleaned out a spare bedroom at the back of his house for her. He had been hopeful, before he'd given her that key, that she would never need to use this room. He had been so sure that things would be different by now, and that she wouldn't need to run just to stay alive.

By the time Amber woke from the restless sleep she'd fallen back into, it was late afternoon. She finally found her feet and wondered into the living room. Corny looked up from reading the paper and lowered it slowly to his lap.

"What's wrong?"

Her throat was dry, and she could feel the mascara burning into her eyes from the previous night. She felt like she was the walking dead; her head was spinning, she was still exhausted. She knew she must have looked a mess, and she blinked at him.

"Listen, Corny," she let herself say the words slowly, "I'm not really in much of a position to be tossed around, you know?"

He arched an eyebrow at her, and she stumbled a bit, letting herself lean against the couch for support.

"I just…I need to know if you're serious about this, about me living in your house. Because if not, I have to find some place to go. I have to…have to, I don't know, get a job, and find an apartment. I can't go back there. I just can't." She was trying to push the words out of her mouth as fast as she could.

He studied her for a moment.

"What do you mean, 'get a job'?"

She swallowed hard.

"I've got to have money, Corny…I have to start saving so that I can eventually-"

"What happened to your council money?" He asked suddenly, shaking his head at her, "That should be enough to get you started."

She stopped, took a breath, and turned to look at him.

"What money?" She glared at him, and he studied the darkness under her eyes, the purple bruises on her neck. It suddenly hit him that she was right; she wasn't broken, she had been completely shattered.

"Amber, all of the council kids get paid for being on the show. You knew that….didn't you?" Although it was already obvious that she didn't.

She wanted to say yes; of course she knew it. She wanted to say anything at all, but could do no more than shake her head slightly.

"My mother," she finally whispered the words, nodding, "she never even told me." She couldn't help but laugh softly, rolling her eyes into the back of her head as she felt them beginning to burn with tears. "I've been on that show for _five years_. I danced through the pain that her asshole boyfriend inflicted on me. He almost broke my fucking _ankle_, and I still danced. He put me through so much _shit_, so much pain…And she doesn't think I deserve that money? That selfish bitch."

Corny swallowed hard, and Amber shook her head, looking away from him.

"I….I'm sorry," he didn't know what else to say, and suddenly felt awkward for even broaching the topic, "I really had no idea, Amber."

She clenched her jaw, nodding her head.

"Yeah, well apparently you weren't the only stupid one." She shook her head again, "No wonder she gave me so much money for my birthday. She's been stealing it from me for five years. This isn't even a percentage of what I should have gotten from her."

She felt the hatred rising in her throat, building in the space between her eyes and blinding her. She stood without another word and made her way to the bathroom, sinking onto the toilet seat and burying her head in her hands. She let herself scream, just the way she always had when Chip had touched her, forced his way into her. She let herself scream for the things he had stolen from her that she could never have back, cry for all of the years of emotional torture she'd have to undergo because of him and his filthy, disgusting self.

Tears of outrage burned her cheeks, and she took a moment, finally collecting herself enough to step into the shower and let the hot water burn her body. She let it pour over her, scrubbed at her skin so hard that she began to bleed. She couldn't get used to this dirty feeling, couldn't clean the filth from her.

By the time she was finished in the shower, she made her way into her bedroom. There was a small envelope on the bed, and she snatched it up, her fingers ripping open the back and pulling the piece of paper from inside. Her eyes scanned over the words.

_Amber,_

_Went to pick up some food for dinner tonight, be back soon._

_I locked the doors when I left. Someone's coming to install an extra deadbolt a little later._

_Corny_

_P.S. Did you really think I was going to toss you around?_

_Believe it or not, I didn't paint the walls in this room pink because it's MY favorite color._

_Amber, you're not living in __**my**__ house._

_You're living in __**our**__ house._

Amber felt the breath escape her lungs, and let herself crawl onto the bed, hugging the paper to her chest and letting herself stare up at the blank ceiling. She buried her head in the pillow suddenly, letting herself inhale the aroma of the bedclothes.

This was what it felt like to _finally_ be home.


	14. Days

Some days were better than others.

She pretended not to care that Velma hadn't tried to contact her by the time she'd been living with Corny for a few weeks. It didn't matter, anyway. There was nothing Velma could have said or done to make up for the way she'd treated her while she'd lived at home. There was nothing either of them could have said to mend the broken relationship between them. She had already accepted the fact that she was dead to the woman who had raised her.

Corny had taken the initiative to go back into her house and get her things, and for that, Amber was grateful. She wasn't exactly eager to see either Chip or her mother again, and certainly didn't want to caught just because she decided to rescue the beautiful dresses she'd grown so accustomed to wearing. She'd worn the same dress for two days in a row simply because she was too afraid to even ask Corny to go back in there for her. When he'd offered to do it without her asking, she'd accepted, but had secretly been terrified that he would never come home, if Chip got a hold of him.

Amber had taken an indefinite leave of absence from the show, because it was easier that way. It was easier not to have to look at her mother, not to have to answer her questioning glares. It was better not to have to deal with the accusatory stares of some of the council girls, because she still wasn't completely sure whether or not they knew she was living with Corny. Although she saw them at school every day, there were only a select few that she even spoke to. She imagined that the fact that she was no longer on the show pleased most of the girls, because Shelley and Tammy seemed to take a genuine interest in her again, and Amber assumed it had something to do with the fact that since she'd left, Shelley had taken over as lead dancer. It was a good thing, though, since Link and Tracy had become extremely close, and he had begun to sit with her at lunch. Now, Amber sat nestled between Shelley and Tammy at the lunch table.

The girls didn't know what was happening, but they knew something was wrong. When they would ask why she left the show, she would tell them it was because she had hurt her ankle falling down the stairs, and it hurt her to even walk on it, much less dance. Both of them realized that she didn't even have a slight limp. Amber knew she wasn't fooling anyone, but they were left in the dark, and that was all that mattered. They hadn't caught onto the painful game she was playing, and as long as they were completely clueless about it, it served her well. It wasn't completely untrue, anyway. She was broken; she had simply learned how to hold herself together in public.

She had been sleeping better at night, but when she woke up in the morning, she was still exhausted. Her eyes would droop all day at school, and when she returned to _their_ home after school, she would often sleep until Corny got home at around six-thirty. She knew it probably wasn't healthy to spend so much time in bed, especially since he had allowed her to live here so that she could begin to rebuild her life, and she hadn't taken any steps to doing that yet. She hadn't even begun to look for a part-time job, hadn't taken any steps to becoming the person she had used to be. Still, part of her was so afraid to _do_ just that. She was afraid to leave the house, with Corny, without Corny. She was afraid to make any sort of decision for herself, because she wasn't completely sure that her mind was functioning properly.

She stirred out of her sleep early one morning, before the sun had even begun to rise, and her eyes fluttered open to look at the soft moonlight that streamed in through the thin curtains that covered the windows. She let herself rest in the quiet of the room, her heart swollen at the fact of how beautiful, how heavenly this place looked. It was true; Corny was her angel, and this place was her heaven.

She pulled her blankets to her chin, snuggling her head into their warmth. It wasn't enough though; she wasn't tired, for the first time in a long time. She didn't want the comfort of these blankets; she wanted the comfort of another person. She slipped her feet out of bed suddenly, and pulled the comforter off the bed, wrapping it around her as she moved toward her bedroom door. Her fingers worked to unlock it; she couldn't get out of the habit of locking the door. She'd done it for far too long, and now it was a self-preservation technique that she had adapted into an almost compulsive nightly ritual. She shuffled down the hall and stood outside Corny's bedroom door for a moment; he always left it open for her, in case she needed him in the middle of the night. She could see inside, and make out his form beneath the blankets. As badly as she wanted to speak to him, to have some sort of human contact, she felt guilty. She'd already moved in here and interrupted his life; she had already made it impossible for him to bring anyone back to his house for fear of them discovering his lead dancer, or _former_ lead dancer, was living with him.

She stood for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip, and started to turn, her bare feet beginning to pad down the hall.

"Amber?" She heard his voice, full of sleep, calling for her. She took a quiet breath and looked back in at him. His dark hair was mussed, and he was studying her, his blue eyes narrowed as he tried to make out her form in the dark of early morning.

"Yes?" Her voice was so soft; she knew she should have just gone back to her bed and let him sleep, but she felt so alone, suddenly so vulnerable that she wanted to be near him.

"Are you okay?" She watched as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and she nodded silently. He propped himself up on his arms and watched her for a moment, "Can't sleep?"

She nodded again, hugging the comforter tighter around her, and she watched him nod, and then shift.

"Can I come in?" She asked softly, and he nodded in response. She shuffled to the chair across the room, collapsing into it and curling her feet up beneath her. She huddled beneath the blanket, her eyes watching him in the darkness, and he pushed himself into a sitting position, his back against the headboard of his bed.

"Anything wrong?" His voice was soft, and she could hear the sleep in his voice. She swallowed.

"I just…got lonely." She felt so small saying the words, and pulled her blanket around her, inhaling the smell that she had come to love so much. It was a perfect blend of her perfume, and Corny's cologne; it was feminine and delicate, and masculine and strong.

"Well, seeing as though I asked you to move in here so that you wouldn't feel so lonely, I feel like I'm not doing a very good job." He chuckled softly, though something told her that it was more from discomfort than actual humor.

"Oh," she sighed softly, "no, Corny, that's not it. I'm…I mean, I just can't stop thinking." They sat in the darkness for a long time, the moonlight gradually changing to the first rays of morning sun. Amber cleared her throat gently. "I feel like I'm drowning, Corny." She swallowed hard, the burn of fresh tears in her eyes, "I mean, it's like I'm underwater, like I'm fighting for my breath, and I'm trying to come back up, but at the same time, I _don't want to. _Like, I don't even really care, because, I mean…what is there to even come back up for?"

She saw him move from his position on the bed until he sat perched on the edge, mere inches from where she sat in the chair. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. She felt strange suddenly, seeing him in a t-shirt and lounge pants. It was too surreal. She'd spent hundreds, no, thousands, of days right there next to him, dancing, sweating. But now, they were here, in his bedroom, in their pajamas, and he was mere inches away from her. She was uncomfortable suddenly, and shifted in the chair. It was a little unnerving to be so close to a man that was at least ten years older than her, especially in these circumstances. When she saw his eyes meet hers in the dim light of the room, though, she suddenly felt at ease again.

"You _have_ to come up for air," the worried lines creased his forehead again, "When someone is waiting for you at the top, you _always_ have to come back up. I'm waiting for you to come back up, Amber."

She felt the lump in her throat at his words, and nodded speechlessly. He sat back then, and she let her eyes dance around the room, sighing softly. She pushed the blanket away from her slowly, and folded her hands in her lap.

"You know," he cleared his throat, "You really_ should_ call your mother, Amber. You should let her know that you're okay."

"She doesn't care how I am," Amber snapped back at him. "If she cared, I wouldn't be here in the first place."

He knew that her words were true, but continued to push.

"She asked about you." He wasn't completely sure why he said the words, but as soon as they slipped from between his lips, he regretted them.

"That doesn't sound like her," she replied coolly a moment later, and he could see that she had begun to wring her hands, "Is that true, Corny?"

There was a long moment of silence between them, and he sighed finally.

"No."

She nodded in the darkness.

"I didn't think so."

"I'm sorry," he spoke a moment later, feeling somewhat intimidated and guilty for his previous lie, "I just really think you should call her. I think she'd probably like to know that you're okay. She knows that you're living with me, Amber, you know I had to tell her."

"I can't call her," she knew her tone was harsh, but couldn't pretend to care, "If I call her, Chip might answer the phone. I don't want him to know where I am." She tried to keep her voice from breaking, but ended up chewing on her lower lip to stifle a quiet sob.

He let the matter drop, and she sniffed loudly.

"It's just…I try to stop being so mad. I try to stop hating him, I try to stop being so angry. It's just _hard_." She was speaking aimlessly now, and her voice dropped to a whisper, "I don't want to be mad forever, Corny."

"The anger won't last forever, Amber. It fades eventually. But do you want to know what I think?"

She looked toward him, then nodded twice.

"I think you should stay mad as long as you can…because when you stop being mad, it's going to start hurting like hell."

She doubted anything could hurt worse than that, worse than when he'd hit her, or raped her. Still, she let herself listen to Corny's words.

She shifted suddenly, and let her hand reach up to brush her hair from her face, sighing as she pushed the blonde tendrils behind her ear. His eyes caught her face suddenly, and he narrowed his eyes.

"What's that?" His gaze was locked on her forehead, and she stared back at him.

"What's what?"

"That scar," he responded softly, "Did Chip give you that scar?"

"Oh, no," she wiped her fingers over her forehead, skimming them over the scar that couldn't have been more than an inch in length. "No, that's one of the few things he didn't do to me. I fell on a brick when I was two," she explained unnecessarily.

"I've never seen it before," he was quiet, and studied her face.

"No," she sighed softly, "You wouldn't have. My mother always makes me wear my hair over it." She swallowed hard, "She said that scar made me damaged goods." If only she knew what Chip had done to her, she'd be ready to throw her out with the trash.

"Well," he cleared his throat gently, "Don't wear your hair over it anymore. Scars make you who you are; they give you character."

"Well then I guess I'm overflowing with character," she nodded.

They sat in the quiet of the slowly brightening room for a long time, and Corny finally sighed, standing up.

"Let me make us some breakfast before I leave for work, okay?" He was gone a moment later, and she stood to follow him.

She pretended to be hungry when he served eggs, and pretended to smile as he left for work.

After he left, she crawled back into her bed, completely ignoring the fact that today was a school day. She didn't want to be around other people today, the pain was so strong inside of her, the desire to be alone suddenly overwhelming.

Yes, some days were definitely better than others.

Today was one of those _other_ days.

**

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PS...Brittany Snow really does have a scar on her forehead, as most of you probably know. I've noticed that in every single picture/scene in Hairspray, they have her hair covering it up. That made me kind of sad.**


	15. Superficial

**This is kind of a two-part chapter, just wanted to break it up so it's not so long and confusing.**

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"Amber." She heard his voice, loud and firm, from beneath the blankets that she had pulled over her head. She could sense that he was dangerously close to her, but she didn't dare move. She didn't want him to know that she was awake. She held her breath as he moved around the bed, and felt his strong hands on her back, shaking her gently. "Amber, it's time to get up."

She groaned inwardly at his words, stifling a yawn and not bothering to pull the covers away from her face. Even through the layers of blankets, she could see the sun streaming in through the windows. It must have been early morning; the sun must still have been rising. It was probably eight in the morning and he-

"Amber, it's eleven-thirty. Come on, it's time to wake up." She heard him moving around her bed again, his hand reaching out to grasp her ankle through the covers. He shook it gently and she kicked, pulling away from him.

"Leave me alone," she groaned from beneath her warm haven, pulling her feet up beneath her so that he couldn't reach for her again. "Go away, Corny."

She pressed her face into the pillow, trying to block him out. It wasn't the first time she'd felt this way, not by a long shot. In fact, she'd skipped three days of school last week just to lie here, and he'd finally caught onto her game. She wasn't completely sure why she'd been so completely careless about having a life. She knew she needed to get up, find a job, go to school, see some friends. And yet, she didn't want to.

"Amber," she heard his strong, chiding voice again, "I hung out that purple dress you like so much. It's hanging on your closet door. I'm going to go, and make you some breakfast, and when I come back, I expect you to be dressed and ready to leave."

"Where are we going?" She yelled back at him, just as he had begun to exit the room.

"_We_ are not going anywhere, Amber. _You _are going to find a job today, remember? That job you've been promising to find since you moved in here over a month ago?" His words hit her hard, and she burrowed beneath the blankets, letting the pillow cover her head. He didn't understand. He didn't know what it felt like to be so completely empty _all the time._ He didn't know what it was like to want to leave the house, and to be so afraid to do it.

It was more than seeing Chip again that she feared now. Corny was right, the anger had slowly begun to fade into something worse; something scarier and more frustrating than anything she'd ever felt before. It hurt more than the first time Chip had raped her, and pushed through the tension that met him between her thighs. It hurt more than the time he had smacked her upside the face and knocked her head against the wall. It hurt more than any of the bruises he'd ever given to her, more than anything he'd _ever_ done to her. Her anger had slowly subsided into hurt, fear, rejection.

Instead of wanting to scream, throw things, hit people, she wanted to cry. She wanted to bury her face into the feather pillows and sob, all day, all night; wanted to feel sorry for herself for once in her pathetic life.

Everyone else had moved on, even Corny. He could look at her now without seeing the bruises, and he could forget what had happened to her, she was sure. The girls at school no longer gave her awkward glances; the boys had resumed their pathetic attempts to flirt with her. When she ignored them, or snapped at them for it, for attempting to patronize her as the victim they had no idea she was, they called her an ice queen, a tramp, a bitch. She had become withdrawn and closed since the anger had turned into hurt, and it hadn't gone unnoticed by others. It pushed everyone further away, which was exactly how she liked it. It made them keep their distance, because they assumed she was just a snobby brat who would attack if cornered. She liked it that way.

She didn't hear Corny again for a while, and assumed that he had disappeared into the kitchen. She took the opportunity to let some of her tears escape, and when she heard him at the foot of her bed again, she wiped them away angrily.

"Okay, Amber." She heard the clack of him setting the dish upon the dresser. "Time to get up now, and eat. Then you're going to go get a shower, make yourself presentable, and go find a job." He busied himself for a moment with her breakfast, and then came toward her, "You've skipped school _at least_ three times this week; probably more that I don't even know about. You cannot lay in bed all day, Amber. It's not healthy. You need to get up, and find something to keep you busy."

She didn't move; she refused to move. When she felt his fingers pulling at her blankets, she groaned loudly.

"Corny, no!" She meant to sound strong, just as firm as he had, but the words escaped her lips like a plea. She felt him halt in his motions, but he regained his strength a moment later, pulling the blankets from around her head. She buried her head into the pillow, and he had to curl his fingers into fists to keep himself from pulling the pillow from beneath her head. "I'm not ready!"

"Amber, come on." He felt like he was talking to a stubborn child. "You have _got_ to get out of bed. You'll never be ready with that attitude."

"I can't!" She yelled back at him suddenly, pulling her face from the pillows and glaring at him, "You don't _understand_, Corny! You don't get it! You're not the one who has been broken. You are _not_ the one who is dead inside."

"Amber," he struggled to keep his voice level, "I understand that this still hurts you. I _get_ that you need time to deal with this, and you _know_ that I am here to help you in any way I can." He paused for a moment, and shook his head. "But _look_ at you, Amber. I mean, really _look_ at yourself." She narrowed her eyes at his words, and he swallowed hard.

"Amber, your bruises are gone. Your scratches have disappeared. You no longer look like the girl who showed on my doorstep. You haven't put on one of your nice dresses, haven't done your make-up in _weeks_. You used to be so beautiful, Amber. You've just let yourself go completely."

As soon as he said the words, he regretted them. He hadn't meant them in _that_ way; of course Amber was beautiful with or without make-up. She looked gorgeous in her beautiful dresses that hugged her sharp curves, or the shapeless nightgown she'd been lounging around the house in for the past few days.

Amber's jaw went slack suddenly, her crystal eyes narrowing at him. She shook her head slightly, and he began to sputter.

"You know that's not what I meant, Amber. I-"

"I didn't realize that beauty was a prerequisite of living here," she snapped suddenly at him, "I didn't realize you were so damn shallow, Corny."

"Amber! I-" He started to defend himself, and she tore the blankets off of her, making her way toward him, pointing a finger at him like she'd always watched her mother do.

"You have _no_ right to talk to me like that. You have _no idea_ what I'm going through, you son of a bitch. You think that just because all those superficial injuries are gone that I'm suddenly all better?" She swallowed hard, tears burning her eyes, "You think I wouldn't just _love_ to wake up one morning and say 'Oh! My bruises are gone! I can go back to being myself now!'? You think I wouldn't just automatically be better if I could, Corny?" She was trying to keep her jaw from trembling now. "It's nice to know that you _understand_ what I'm going through, you arrogant asshole. It's so easy for you to sit up on that high horse of yours and judge me while I'm down here on the floor, isn't it?"

"Amber, you have _got _to stop feeling sorry for yourself. What happened to you is terrible, yes, but you've got to get on with your life! You've gotten into worse fights with the council girls before, I'm sure." He narrowed his eyes at her, "You can't let bruises and scratches change who you are, Amber."

His stupidity, his naivety; she would have found it so amusing, endearing, even, if she had been in any other situation but this. She wanted to say so much to him, wanted to tell him that although outwardly she was normal again, she was devastated on the inside. She wanted to tell him about the rape suddenly, about all of the lewd, horrible things Chip had done to her in the dark of her bedroom, but she knew she couldn't. It was too horrible, too awful of a secret to tell anyone. It was a heavy burden, though; one that she knew she would carry with her for the rest of her life. Still, if he knew about rape, he might feel differently. He might understand why she couldn't get out of bed. He might understand why she couldn't stop crying herself to sleep at night. He might understand why she would _never_ be the person she had been before.

And yet, he might not.

Amber stared at him, her eyes brimming with tears. She swallowed hard, and nodded, pushing past him to grab the silky dress he had hung up for her to wear.

"It's nice to know that you're so supportive of me. Thanks, Corny," she spit the words at him, pushing out of the room and into the bathroom, "Thanks a whole fucking lot."

She slipped into the shower and let herself cry into the streaming water. When she got out, she dried her body with a fluffy towel and stepped into the dress Corny had put out for her. She zipped it, and stood before the mirror, her eyes burning as she studied her reflection. As much as she hated to admit it, and as awful as it had sounded coming from his lips, he was right; she had let herself go. She had always prided herself on her appearance, but now, there was nothing to be proud of. Her cheeks were hollow, her eyes were dark. Her wet hair hung limp around her face. The dress was bigger than it had ever been, and it seemed to swallow her thin frame. She looked, and felt, like a zombie.

She swallowed hard, trying not to cry as she dug through a suitcase in the back of her closet. It was full of things that Corny had rescued from her house, things that she hadn't looked at since he'd brought them here.

She found it near the bottom, and opened it with shaking hands, her eyes grazing over the make-up inside. There were so many different pretty colors, lipsticks, eye shadows, eyeliners. These colors, this artificial beauty, it was a world she had abandoned the night Chip had attacked her, save the times she'd needed it to cover up the damage he had done to her.

With trembling fingers, she began to open the make-up, and began to apply it to her face. It was cold and awkward, to pretend to care what she looked like, but she forced herself to do it.

She was, after all, grasping at straws to save what was left of her worthless life. Apparently this simulated beauty was all that really mattered to anyone, including Corny. She had, after all, learned that lesson from her mother many, many years ago: _If you were beautiful, you would be loved._


	16. Poor

**I was going to make this chapter even longer, but I didn't want to take away from what already happens in it, so I'll finish it up in the next post...**

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She hadn't _wanted_ to get dressed up, and certainly hadn't _wanted_ to come into downtown Baltimore by herself to look for a job. Still, her anger and Corny's harsh words kept her moving as she climbed off the bus, making a vow at that moment to demand to pay more attention in driver's ed. Not that it would help much, seeing as though she didn't have, and couldn't afford a car, but still. She had already been through enough; public transportation was like a punishment in itself.

Her high heels hit the pavement of the business district, and she swallowed hard. It was the first time since this had all started that she'd been anywhere other than school by herself…well, at least when she hadn't been making a mad dash out of the house to escape.

She tried not to feel a certain way as she let her feet carry her up the sidewalks, and past store windows and bars. The high heels should have been hurting her feet, but they weren't. She had, in fact, been feeling strangely euphoric since she'd stepped off that bus, because in a way, Corny had been right. She _had_ let herself go since she'd moved in with him. She _had_ stopped trying to make herself beautiful, and until this very moment, she hadn't cared.

There was something about being in the chilly air of late fall, wrapped in the warm faux fur coat that Corny had managed to sneak from her closet. The wind chilled her, and it made her knees tremble through her dress, but it couldn't hurt her, she knew that. She'd been to the darkest corner in the deepest well, and she knew the difference between things that hurt you, and things that chilled you. This wind was definitely a chiller, but not a killer. It made her feel slightly refreshed, made her remember that even though it had seemed like years, even lifetimes ago, she had been whole once. It gave her hope; led her to believe that maybe someday, years from now, she'd be able to be that girl again. Even if it meant she missed out on a few years of her life, it was a greater optimism than she'd had in a long while, and for the first time in months, she held her head up, against the bitter wind. The breeze slipped through her golden locks, and she pushed them from her face. She set her jaw, and her eyes fell upon the small "Now Hiring" sign in the window of a small diner. She recognized it as a diner that she and her mother had often visited, but it seemed so different now. Those late dinners, where Amber hadn't been allowed to order anything more than a salad with no dressing, seemed like lifetimes ago. They would sit at a table in the middle of the restaurant and heckle the waitresses, the customers. Velma would often encourage Amber to complain about her order, even if there was nothing wrong with it, simply so that the waitress would be inconvenienced to bring them another drink, another plate. It was an endless, vicious cycle that, at the time, Amber had found wildly entertaining.

She had never wanted to be a waitress; had never thought it would come down to this, but, indeed, it had. She stood outside the window for a moment, watching the people bustle around inside, and buried her face in her coat. It was now or never, she knew. She could swallow her pride, go inside, and ask for a job. She could try to forget that she'd always considered waitresses the lowest of the low, and had never even bothered to leave a tip when she ate out. She could ignore the fact that she'd always thought waitresses to be exactly what she was now; lonely, abandoned young women who could do nothing more than offer a broken smile as a cheap attempt to ask for money. Most people pitied waitresses, but Amber never had. She had always assumed that they chose this life because they knew they couldn't do any better. Maybe that's what she was doing, now.

Finally, she pushed through the door, and a bell tinkled over her head as her heels clipped the tile floor. Amber dodged the crowds inside and made her way to the counter. She placed her fingertips on the counter, clearing her throat softly as a man leaned in to speak to her.

"Uh, I'm here to ask about that job you're hiring for," it was so strange, saying the words, because she'd never had to do anything like this. The man spoke with her for a moment, and told her that it was a job for a waitress, evening and weekend shifts. He told her that they'd been extremely busy with the upcoming holiday season, and that he would hire her and train her within the next few days if she wanted the job. She stood for a moment, then blinked. She'd never had any idea it was this easy to get a job, and nodded her head dumbly in response.

And that was how Amber Von Tussle became a waitress.

It wasn't the best she'd ever felt about herself, but she knew as she pushed her way out the door of the restaurant and into the streets again, that it was the right thing to do. She could never expect to be able to do anything, _get_ anything, without money. She let herself get lost in the fantasy of her first job; how much she would make, how good it might feel to save that money and use it towards some huge purchase like a car, or her first few months rent for an apartment. She was, in fact, so caught up in her own meandering thoughts that she didn't realize that when she turned a corner, she bumped into a tall, thin blonde woman. She felt her cheeks flush hot and sputtered suddenly.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she had begun to back away when the woman turned on her heels. "Oh my God, Mother."

Velma glared at her suddenly, her lips twisted into a sneer. Amber had almost decided to run, but stood her ground suddenly. Today was the first day of the rest of her life. If she ever wanted to begin to _think_ about moving on with her life, now was the time to start.

"Don't 'Mother' me," Velma spat her words back at her, studying her as if she were a diseased animal, "I have no daughter."

As much as the words hurt, she had expected them. As much as they brought fresh tears to her eyes and made the back of her throat sting with tears, she had only assumed this would happen when, or if, they met again.

"Fine," Amber nodded her head, desperate to keep her tears at bay, "You keep pretending to be completely clueless about what happened at home. _I_ am not the one living with the devil."

"Oh, Jesus, Amber," the older woman rolled her eyes mockingly, "Are you _really_ that ignorant? Do you really think Corny wants you living with him? He feels sorry for you, you little tramp. It's all he talks about in the studio; he'd throw you out if he could, but he can't stand to see you looking so damn pathetic."

Amber felt the rush of blood to her head and pursed her lips.

"Well then he's _still_ a step ahead of you," she replied smartly. The wind was still cool, but suddenly, Amber was more than warm enough, "_You_ didn't even care enough to help me when I was _begging_ for you to listen to me."

Velma waved a hand dismissingly at her, and turned to go. Amber was enraged suddenly, at the fact that she was being turned away _again_, by a woman who had just dismissed the abuse she'd taken at the hands of _her_ fiancée.

"Listen to me!" Amber reached out, grabbing her wrist and holding her tight. Velma turned quickly, and their blue eyes met instantly. Amber studied her mother's face, and her eyes grazed upon a small, dark spot just beneath her collar. She recognized it immediately; she'd had enough of them to know a bruise when she saw one. She felt the breath slipping from her lungs silently, and then furrowed her brows, glancing back at Velma's face.

"You knew," they were the only words she could muster at first, and she shook her head slightly. A mixture of fear and hatred began to burn behind her eyes, "You knew the whole time. He was doing the same thing to you, wasn't he?" She realized her mistake quickly, "_Isn't_ he?"

Velma studied her with a gaze of steel. Amber felt herself scoffing; it was the only thing that held back the sob in her throat.

"_Why_, Mother?" She demanded the words angrily, "What in the hell do you think we've done to deserve this? What gives him the _right_ to do this to us?" She swallowed hard, "You _knew_ that he was hurting me. I thought you were just infinitely stupid, I thought you didn't believe my words. And yet, the _entire_ time, you knew what was going on. You _knew_ that when you left me alone in that house with him that he was going to hurt me, rape me, _destroy_ me." Finally, she couldn't control herself longer, and let herself sob. "What gave you the right to do that to me? You are my _mother_, you were supposed to protect me!"

Velma pulled her wrist from Amber's grasp, and leaned her blonde head in quickly.

"Stop complaining, you little brat. You have _no_ idea what it's like in the world, Amber. You have _no _idea what it's like to have to fight your way to the top of something that you've worked _so_ hard for, only to be knocked back down. You don't know what it's like to have it hard."

"Oh, I don't?" She sneered suddenly, "I had to _hide_ in my bedroom, Mother. I had to lock my door at night because I was so terrified he was going to kill me." She gritted her teeth at her sudden memory; the pain was still as fresh as ever. "Do you _know_ what it feels like to have to dance the day after you've been raped? Do you know how it feels when your insides are so _fucked up_ that you don't know if you'll ever be the same again? I thought I was _dying_, Mother, and all because your fucking _boyfriend_ raped me so hard, and for so long, that it felt like my insides had been ripped out. You don't think that's 'having it hard'?" Amber bit her lip so hard that she tasted the bitter blood immediately, and shook her head. "What is wrong with you? Why haven't you called the police on his sorry ass? Why are you letting him do this to us? You owe me an explanation, Mother."

She didn't expect an answer from Velma, but at that moment there was an almost indiscriminate change in the older woman's eyes. She pulled her mink stole around her tighter. Her face suddenly looked so pale, so frighteningly dead that it reminded Amber of the way she looked, without her make-up or hair done. At least with all of those superficial beauties, Amber could _look_ like her old self. Velma face was buried beneath the pounds of make-up she wore each day, and still, she looked like death.

"I'm being replaced at the station," Velma said the words quickly, as if someone were listening to her, "They're bringing in someone _younger_." She narrowed her dark blue eyes at her daughter suddenly, "I am _not_ giving up the life I've grown accustomed to just because some cheap tramp…" there was a sudden pain in her eyes and her voice faded. She clenched her jaw. "Chip has enough money. I'll never have to work again."

"Mother, he's going to kill you," Amber pleaded with her, though she wasn't exactly sure why. Amber's eyes fell upon the diamond on her left hand suddenly, and she gasped softly, new tears forming in her eyes. "No," she begged gently, "Please…don't tell me you're marrying him…please, please, don't."

Velma gritted her teeth, her eyes flashing dark suddenly.

"I would rather be _dead_ than poor, Amber."

The words hit Amber hard, and she found herself physically gasping for breath as Velma turned on her heels and continued on her way. She held her head high, even now, with those bruises on her skin and that collar of a diamond ring on her finger.

Amber stood numb for a moment, watched her walk away, and had a feeling it would be the last time she ever saw her mother, alive or otherwise.


	17. Breakdown

Okay...I have to admit, this is probably one of my favorite chapters so far. I was looking SO forward to writing this, and I think it came out well. I hope you guys enjoy.

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She wasn't exactly sure how she made it home, and couldn't even remember taking the bus back across town. By the time she made it to the front steps of Corny's house, her feet were so full of blisters that she could only assume she'd trudged the few miles home, without even being aware of it. As she climbed the steps and used her key to get through the front door, she realized her nose had begun to run, and her eyes were watering. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, and felt her knees trembling as she pushed through the house, making her way directly to her bedroom. She didn't see Corny as she rushed through the hallways and into her room, didn't care where he was. She slammed the door hard, letting herself scream as she heard it hit against its wooden frame. The words started low in her throat and rose to a deafening pitch, words that she'd only thought about saying at the pinnacle of pain, words that she'd only screamed at Chip when he'd touched her.

She began to lash out suddenly, her arms flailing out to knock things from the top of her dresser, to scream as they crashed to the floor. She couldn't stop herself from screaming, couldn't stop her head from spinning. She felt the tears building behind her rage, but couldn't cry. She needed to be angry first, needed to let her lungs explode with the hatred, and the anger, and the frustration that she felt.

She wasn't sure where he came from, but she spotted Corny standing in the doorway, watching her, his eyes wide. She heard him calling her name, but she was so far away, much too far to even think about answering him. She was so unraveled, more than she'd ever felt before. She could literally feel herself losing her mind as she screamed; she could feel the veins in her neck and forehead, could feel her body shaking violently, and she turned to Corny, white hot hatred burning behind her eyes.

"Amber," she heard him say her name, and his voice was calm, collected. His wide blue eyes studied her, and she narrowed her own into slits of disgust, directing her gaze at him. "Calm down."

"No!" She screamed the word at him, her voice breaking at the shrill peak. She moved toward him quickly, "Don't tell me to calm down! This is all your fucking fault, Corny! This is all your fault!"

"What?" He shot back quickly, "What's my fault?"

"Everything!" She was hysterical now, but she wouldn't let herself cry, "This whole Goddamn situation, it's all your fault! You should have let him kill me, you son of a bitch. You should have just let him kill me!"

"Amber, what happened?" He demanded the words, his hands reaching out for her, "Tell me what happened."

"Don't touch me!" She spit at him, flailing her arms at him and smacking his hands away from her, "I hate you!" She saw him flinch from the corner of her eye, but she was too caught up to notice it. She felt a sob rising in her throat and pushed it down. "You made me leave the house! You _made_ me go out there, and _you_ are the reason I saw her! You are the reason I have to spend the rest of my life _hating her_ for marrying him!" She clenched her teeth together suddenly, and flew at him. She was blind to the fact that he was bigger, and stronger than her. She didn't care. She drew back her hand and let herself smack him, harder than she'd ever hit anyone. Harder than the time she and Shelley had gotten into a fight backstage and she'd left a handprint on her ivory cheek. She smacked him so hard that it made his head turn swiftly, and she drew her face into an ugly sneer. He was silent for a moment, and stood still before he attempted to reach for her.

"Don't touch me!" She screamed at him again, just barely dodging his grasp, "I'm leaving! I'd rather be homeless than stay here!"

"Amber!" His voice was louder now, and she spun on her heels to look at him.

"Leave me alone!" It was the only thing she could say; her mind was blank, her body was numb. She couldn't stop seeing that diamond ring, couldn't stop seeing her mother's face, and those bruises just beneath her collar.

He moved toward her quickly, wrapping his arms around her thin shoulders. She shrieked her voice shrill and exceptionally loud. She tried to break free from her grasp, tried to kick him in his shins, let her hands scratch at him, dig into his dress shirt. She tried to rip his clothes from him in his anger, tried to do _anything_ to make him release her. Her fingers moved toward his face, to scratch his eyes out. She wanted to, at that moment, and she would have, but his hand caught hers, bringing it down and holding it tight. He hugged her tight, so tightly that she couldn't breathe for a moment. She could feel her body beginning to break suddenly, but continued to scream, and try to struggle free. Each time she squirmed in his arms, his embrace tightened.

She could still hear herself screaming like a madwoman, and knew that she was beyond hysterical. And then, suddenly, his mouth was next to her ear, his arms still wrapped tightly around her.

"Shh," he soothed her, his breath sending chills down her spine. She couldn't be bothered by that right now, though, and continued to fight him. He held her closer, his head dipping into the nape of her neck. "It's okay…it's okay."

"No!" She screeched the word, and felt her knees beginning to tremble. She hadn't meant to cry, but she felt the moisture on her face suddenly and knew that her tears had escaped. She was trembling now, her entire body shaking, and he was holding her. His strong hands were the only thing supporting her, the only things that were keeping her from crashing to the ground. "It's not okay!" She tried to scream again, but the sob in her throat prevented her from doing so. "Nothing is _ever _going to be okay again! She's marrying him!" She let the sob rip through her, tearing apart her throat and her head fell into his chest, "I hate you, Corny! I hate you for making me go out there, and see her!"

He swallowed hard, and spread his fingers, letting them skim her back. She bawled against him, her knees suddenly giving out. He faltered for a moment, and then led them to the bed. He lowered himself into a sitting position, still clutching Amber to his chest. Her fingernails were digging into his cotton shirt now, into his skin. He silently hoped she would release her grasp, but didn't dare ask her to.

"I'm sorry," he breathed the words against her ear, "You're safe, Amber. You're so safe with me, baby."

She tried to keep her body from trembling as she wept against him, clinging to him like a lost child. He didn't release his grip on her as she sobbed, and held her close, whispering his words into her ear as she shuddered beneath him.

"He…he's going to kill her, Corny…he's going to kill her, and then he's going to come kill me…" she could barely get the words out between her sobs, "Why is she doing this? Why…" She fell into another harsh round of sobs, and her voice faded.

He held her head to his chest, letting her tears soak into him.

"He's not coming to get you," he assured her softly, letting his fingers stroke her messy blonde hair, "He's never going to touch you again, I promise you that."

He was silent as he held her, and she wept against him. He swallowed hard, letting his eyes close as he held her. The feeling of her, being so small, and weeping in his arms, was almost overwhelming. It was almost enough to make him sob himself, but he was stronger than that. He couldn't cry, at least not in front of her, no matter how much this tore him up inside.

"I'm sorry," he hushed her, "I'm so sorry, Amber." He wanted to say that he shouldn't have made her leave the house, shouldn't have insisted she get a job, but he couldn't. It was what she had needed, no matter how much it hurt her. He assumed that she'd run into Velma while she was downtown, and let himself nod against her. "Your mother will be all right. She's a strong woman, Amber. She knows how to take care of herself. We'll work everything out, okay? We really will."

She cried against him for another moment, and then raised her chin to look at him. He was _so_ desperately close to her now, she could feel his breath on her skin, and, as much as she wanted it to terrify her, it didn't. There was something so comforting in his touch, something in his eyes that made her forget he was the gender of her enemy; it made her forget that it was a man who had put her in this situation in the first place.

"We can't," she said the words. Her voice was hoarse, and tendrils of her hair stuck to her hot, wet face. He brushed the strands gently away with his thumb, letting himself watch her, "It's too late."

"No," he hushed her, "it's not too late, Amber. It's _never_ too late."

"He's already got what he wants," she nodded to affirm her words, "He's destroyed me, and now he's got my mother trapped."

Corny let his finger tilt her chin up, and she watched him with her dark, scared eyes. The aftershock of her sobs still wracked her body, and she quivered in his arms. She nodded again, though just slightly this time, as her lips tried to form the words. She pressed her forehead against his shoulder, inhaling his smell, her mouth sticky and dry from her tears. She tried to wet her lips, but her tongue felt like a brick, heavy and dried out, and she chewed on her bottom lip, trying to summon the courage to say the words that she'd spent the last few months trying to hide from him.

"He raped me, Corny." Her head was still on his shoulder, and she said the words so softly that she wasn't completely sure he'd heard her. She didn't move, didn't breathe for a moment, and felt him tense slightly beneath her. She kept her head against him, not daring to look into his face. If she did, he would see her for what she truly was; broken, disgusting, revolting. She closed her eyes, and another tear slid down her cheek. She didn't bother to wipe it away. "It happened more than once."

There was silence between them for a moment, and he shifted his head. His lips were resting against her temple, and she could practically feel him trying to think of something, anything to say in response to her. She was honestly surprised that he hadn't recoiled at her words, hadn't tried to pull back, pull away from this situation he had gotten himself into. She swallowed hard, and allowed herself to snuggle into his embrace. She worked her head into the crook of his neck, his lips still resting on the spot just beneath her forehead.

"I…I'm sorry," he didn't know what to say, and she felt strangely sympathetic for him. "I would have done more if I had known…I would have called the police over to your house every day, Amber."

She shook her head slightly, her teeth chewing on her lip.

"It's better that you didn't. I wouldn't be here right now if you had."

They both knew her words were true.

"Did you ever go to the hospital?" He sounded so afraid to ask the question, and she closed her eyes, swallowing hard.

"No." Her voice was barely a whisper, "I couldn't have. It was just easier to pretend it never happened."

He didn't bother to ask why; he already knew.

Thoughts of her mother, and Chip, and the rape, and the abuse flashed through her mind, and she turned her face into Corny's neck, squeezing her eyes shut. She felt his hold on her tighten, and suddenly, she felt his hands on her back, stroking her gently as she curled against him.

"Jesus, Amber," his voice was so soft, so comforting, that she let herself melt into him, and his lips brushed her temple again, "You never deserved that. _No one_ ever deserves that." She began to tremble slightly, and he curled his arms around her again, hugging her to his chest.

"I just want the pain to stop," she whispered to him, "I want to be able to stop feeling so dirty all the time. I don't want to have to feel ashamed anymore."

He lifted her chin to look at him, his eyebrows suddenly furrowed.

"There is _nothing_ dirty about you, Amber. You have _nothing_ to be ashamed of. He is a sick, disgusting, awful man. You should _not_ feel bad for that." His face was creased with concern, and he studied her face. She realized, for the first time, that when he looked at her like this, like he was trying to memorize every freckle on her skin, every strand of hair on her head, that it didn't make her feel awkward, or uncomfortable. It made her feel loved, and appreciated. "Do you understand that?"

She let herself nod softly, and a quiet sob escaped from between her slightly parted lips. He swallowed hard, and clutched her to him again.

"Amber," he said her name after a long, silent moment between them, "You don't realize how strong, and magnificent you are. You really have no idea."

She held her breath for a moment, letting herself listen to his words before clutching onto him tighter.

She let her fingers slip into one of his hands, and curled it against her chest.

"Neither do you, Corny."


	18. Give

Okay, this is my longest chapter so far, and it's got a LOT of really important things in it, so I hope you enjoy. I really like this one, too. I hope you all like it as well, and it was worth the wait. Another chapter of "I Never Promised You A Rose Garden" will be up soon. Enjoy!

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Time had begun to pass quickly, and suddenly, weeks had gone by. It had sent them into the dead of winter; late December, and snow had begun to coat the ground ritualistically. It seemed that every morning when Amber woke, there was at least another foot of the white powder covering any tracks that had been made the previous day. It was a small comfort for her; it seemed to say that each day was _new_, and that the mistakes, the actions of the previous day no longer held any meaning. She liked that.

Amber had never been particularly fond of Christmastime. Growing up, it had been nothing special. Her mother had never allowed her to make gingerbread cookies and decorate them intricately with frosting. She had never baked pies that made the house smell like apples and cinnamon, had never listened to Christmas carols around a crackling fire in the fireplace. Of course, there was always a Christmas tree, and presents, if only because she had liked to put the fancy tree in the front window, so that passers-by could stare in envy, and gifts that Amber could wear to school when the break was over, to make her classmates jealous. Even at Christmas, there was no altruism, no goodwill in Velma's heart. It was all to show others what she could afford, and what they couldn't.

Amber had been working for almost a month, and though the days were long and left her feet aching and her back hurting, an unusual feeling often encompassed her as she headed home; the sense of accomplishment. The feeling of knowing that the money in her pocket was _hers_, and that she had earned it herself. She had learned to swallow her pride quickly, because there was no room for it when she was attempting to save as much money as she could so that _one day_, she would be able to stand on her own two feet, and move out of Corny's house. It was a distant dream, she knew, because she made less than a dollar per hour, and most of her customers were either cheap or saving their money for their own holiday shopping. Still, Amber took every penny she could get, and smiled gratefully for it.

"So…" Corny spoke, as they stood in front of a towering evergreen that was frosted with snow, "what exactly are we looking for in a tree?"

Amber rocked back on her heels, glancing up at the tree.

"Corny, I don't even think we could get this through the front door," she felt herself smiling slightly at him, even though the bitter cold left her nose, lips, and ears frozen. She let her hands slip upward, pulling her scarf closer around her neck, hunching her shoulders. "What are we even doing here?"

He took a few steps away from her and she hurried to keep up with him. He came to stand in front of another tree, pushing his hands into his pockets and glaring up at it.

"You know we can't celebrate Christmas without a tree," he explained, sighing exasperatedly at her, and then grinning before nodding to the tree he stood before, "what about this one?"

She blinked up at it, and then shrugged.

"It's fine."

He grumbled slightly, beginning to move again, and she dipped her head against the chilly wind, following behind him closely.

"Why do you hate Christmas?" He looked at her suddenly. His question was so blunt, so completely unexpected that it made him sound like a spoiled child, and she sputtered suddenly.

"I don't _hate_ Christmas."

"Well, you don't _like_ it." He was still watching her, and she felt defensive suddenly.

"I just-" she sighed softly, "Corny, you just don't understand what it was like having Velma as a mother at Christmas. She just…_killed_ the spirit of the season." She studied him for a moment, "She could make a snowman melt just by _looking_ at him."

"I get that, Amber," he took a step closer to her, his eyes studying her face, "but the thing is, you're not _with_ Velma this year; you're with _me_." His eyes seemed to be pouting. "I want to make this a good year for us," he nodded, and then looked as if he might say something else, before biting on his lip and turning his eyes back to the tree. "So, do you like this one?"

She suddenly felt infinitely guilty, and studied his face for a moment before nodding.

"It's lovely."

Amber could do little more than stand back and watch as Corny beckoned to the man who was selling the trees, and pulled out his wallet. By the time they had gotten the tree tied to the roof of the car, Amber was shivering in the frosty evening air.

"So," he moved closer to her suddenly, and lowered his voice, "Did Velma completely turn you off from hot chocolate, too? Because there's this place I know about that serves the _best_ in town."

It was the first real time she and Corny had been out of the house together, basically since she had moved in with him. There was something odd about being in public, even now, with him. She had grown accustomed to the fact that everyone _knew_ she was living with him; someone had started a rumor in school and word had spread quickly. Still, being seen with him in public was something extremely different.

And yet, she couldn't pretend to care about that. When she looked at him, she found comfort, and acceptance. That was something no one else had ever given to her. She couldn't deny the fact that he was her savior, and didn't think she should have to hide that fact from anyone.

They found themselves at a small café about a half hour later, seated at a small table located on the sidewalk, just out of the path of traffic. Though Amber was still cold and a light snow was beginning to descend, the hot drink warmed her throat and Corny's smile kept her face a warm shade of pink. She studied his eyes as he spoke, the corners of her lips turning into a soft smile.

"I can't imagine the infamous Velma Von Tussle wasting her time on something as trivial as a _Christmas tree_," he responded, when Amber had commented on the tree he'd picked out not so long ago.

"Well, it was an aluminum tree," she swallowed, her brain reeling at the thought of all of the Christmases she'd suffered through because she'd had no other choice, "It was hideous. She would hire a decorator to come in and dress it up." She glanced down at the table, "I hated that damn thing."

"Ah, aluminum." Corny sat back, watching her, "I should have guessed; more artificialness."

She peered at him from the other side of the table. She brushed a gloved hand over her bare forehead suddenly, and she saw Corny's eyes move to that scar on her forehead. She hadn't even attempted to cover it up since the day he'd told her not to.

"Of course," she replied, swallowing hard. She glanced at the watch on her wrist, noting the time. The hands were stuck on 4:42. It was past nine o'clock at night. "Shit." She tapped the face with her fingernail, "Stupid watch. Now I won't know when I'm running late to work." She glanced back up at him, "It's a good thing I've memorized exactly how long it takes to catch the bus there." She smiled softly at him, and noticed that he was no longer watching her.

Something in Corny's face made her stop speaking suddenly, and she felt a sudden coldness race through her veins. His eyes were focused on something behind her, and before she even began to ask what it was, she turned her body, her eyes falling over him at once.

"Oh, God," she whimpered softly when she saw Chip. He was a few yards away, and in a crowd of others. She wasn't completely sure if he had seen her, but she shrunk into herself, turning herself around in the chair. "Let's go home," her words were barely a whisper, "Please, _please_, Corny, let's go home right now."

She started to move, because she fully expected him to agree, and to sweep her under his arm and across the street until they were safely in the car. She turned to look at him just as he spoke.

"No." His voice was firm, and she looked at him, her eyes wide.

"Corny," she began to plead, and he glared at her.

"Amber, you are _not_ going to spend the rest of your life running from him. He is _not_ worth it." His eyes were dark suddenly, and Amber knew that Chip had spotted them. She felt her throat beginning to close up, and Corny stood up, crossing over to her as she felt Chip stopping beside them.

"Well," she heard his gruff voice for the first time in what felt like eternities, "Lookie here, we found us a little bitch." His eyes were cold, and focused on Amber. Her head was down, her eyes closed, and she listened to the voices as they spoke.

"Don't talk to her like that," Corny's voice was loud now.

"Who the hell are you?" Chip turned his attention to Corny, and Amber raised her eyes to watch Corny. Obviously, he didn't remember him from their brief confrontation on the front porch that evening.

"I'm going to be your worst _fucking_ nightmare if you lay a hand on her ever again," his voice was low, and even, and it sent chills up Amber's spine. Chip watched him for a moment with his dark, beady eyes, and then smirked.

"I'm shaking in my boots." He shifted to glance back at Amber. "You know, I'm surprised. You're not a bad looking guy; I thought you'd be able to afford better than this cheap hooker."

"Shut the hell up," Corny was in his face just as Amber's mouth dropped slightly, her cheeks flushing, and not from the cold this time. "Are you proud of yourself because you could take advantage of a seventeen-year-old girl? Does it make you feel good that you can make her feel so bad about herself?" Corny's voice was rising now, and Amber's eyes were locked on him. "You are a spineless, _pathetic_, animal."

Chip's eyes narrowed, and he pushed himself closer to Corny.

"You shouldn't talk to a man like that, son," he growled, and Corny stared at him, unblinking.

"I'm not talking to a man; I'm talking to a coward." Corny said the words, and it only took a moment for Chip to draw back, his fist landing squarely on Corny's jaw. Amber screamed as Corny fell to the ground, jumping up and knocking her chair against the ground. It only took seconds for Corny to get to his feet, and not even that long for Amber to see the blood trailing from Corny's nose, the cheek that she could see was bright red and already beginning to swell. Corny moved quickly, punching Chip just as quickly as he had been hit, sending him stumbling through the crowd.

"Corny!" Amber screamed his name, rushing over to him, tugging on his arm, "Stop!" He didn't realize how strong Chip was; didn't realize that he could find their house easily, and would have no qualms about waiting for him as he left for work one morning. She felt the tears on her face and found her strength, pulling him away from the situation, her feet moving quickly as she dragged him down the sidewalk. He began to stumble slightly, and she glanced hurriedly at him. She could see Chip watching them from the corner of her eye, and turned dragged Corny until they had turned a corner, glaring at him angrily.

"What in the hell is wrong with you?" She screamed the words at him, "He could have had you arrested! He is a piece of fucking garbage! He is _not_ worth it, Corny!"

"No, he's not!" His voice was loud suddenly, and he glared at her, "But _you_ are, Amber!"

She fell behind suddenly, and let her feet drag her back to the car, suddenly feeling immensely guilty. She was silent the entire ride home, and though his face was bloody and already beginning to swell, he insisted on dragging the Christmas tree upstairs before abandoning it in a corner of the living room. He moved into the kitchen suddenly, pulling a frozen steak from the Frigidaire and holding it against his face before collapsing on the couch. Amber returned from the bathroom with a moist washcloth, offering it to him to swab his bloody nose. He threw her a soft smile and she rested against the couch, unable to look directly at him.

"You shouldn't have done that," she said when she finally found her voice, "He's really dangerous, Corny."

"Hey," he prompted her to look at him after a short silence, "I have one hell of a left hook, you have to admit it."

She felt herself smiling weakly at him, against her will, and shook her head, her eyes falling upon the forgotten tree in the corner.

"Uh," he groaned softly, wincing as he moved the rag on his face, "Sorry about that. Some Christmas Eve, huh?"

She watched him sadly for a moment, and then tilted her head before climbing off the couch.

"I got a present for you, I'll be right back." She disappeared for a moment and then returned, offering him a small box. He pulled the cloth from his face, and looked at her.

"You shouldn't have done that, Amber," he warned her softly, and she shook her head.

"It's nothing big; I didn't have much time to save money. It's just…a little thing. I just wanted to say thank you."

He tore the paper from the box and opened it, grinning slightly as he peered inside. His fingers worked into the box and he pulled the tie out, admiring it.

"A purple tie," he smiled up at her, "to match my purple suit?"

She nodded, smiling, and he chuckled softly.

"It's…perfect," he nodded up at her, "Thank you." He hesitated for a moment, then raised it to his face, "I think it matches my bruises, as well."

She offered him a smile, and then swallowed hard as he shifted.

"I bought you something, too." He stood for a moment, walked out of the room and returned with a small box wrapped in dark red paper. He moved back onto the couch and handed it to her. She took it into her hands, her eyebrows furrowing as he looked at her.

"Corny…" she hesitated, her fingers resting on the paper, "You _really_ didn't have to get me _anything_."

He groaned, shifting and moving the frozen steak back to his swollen cheek.

"Amber, stop practicing your humility and open the damn box." He grinned slightly at her, then winced. She smirked up at him, letting her fingers slide into the crease and carefully rip the paper off. She pulled the box open, her eyes falling upon a set of keys.

"Keys? Corny, you already gave me this for my _birthday_," she teased him, looking up at him, "Keys to what?"

"To your car," he said the words softly, and her eyes met his face, locking onto him.

"What?" She glared at him, "What are you-"

"I bought it from a friend of mine," he admitted quietly, "it's older, and it's probably not the kind _you_ would have bought, but…" he hesitated, "It will get you to work and back, and you won't have to take the bus anymore." He was quiet for a moment, "I don't like you walking in the dark, either."

He let his eyes meet her face, and she sat silently watching him. She bit down on her lip, tears of appreciation welling in her eyes, and looked up at him.

"I can't-" she stammered for a moment, her eyes studying the copper keys, "I can't repay you for this, Corny. I just don't have the money right now."

"I never asked you to repay me," came his solid response, and she felt her lips twitching as the tears burned her eyes, urging her to cry. He smirked at her. "Now it looks like I'm going to have to get you a watch, too."

"Thank you," the words were a near whisper, and she nodded, moving closer to him. "Really, _thank you_."

She let her hand touch the cheek that wasn't bruised, and moved toward him slowly, her lips brushing lightly against the smooth skin. She sat back, studying him with large eyes.

"You're welcome," he blushed slightly, turning his head to look at her, "You know-I would give you a lot more, if I could, Amber."

She furrowed her eyebrows at him.

"Corny," she scoffed, "you've given me a safe place to live, you've been an _amazing_ friend…the _best_ friend I've ever had," she admitted softly, "And now…" she gestured to the keys in her hand, "A _car_." She shook her head at him, smiling gently. "Corny," she slipped her hand into one of his, "You've given me more of a life than my own mother ever did. You've given me _everything_ I have _ever_ wanted in my life. There is nothing left for you to give me."

He smiled gently at her, nodding lightly. He could think of a few things that she was still missing; her spirit, her happiness, the simple joy of being young. And though he couldn't wrap them up in a box and present them to her, he vowed to give her the closest thing he could to what she had lost all those months ago.

It was his way of attempting to make her whole again.


	19. Belong

Tada! Look how quick I updated!!! Okay. So. This chapter has been a long time coming...it might make some of you mad, it will probably make others happy. You'll understand what I mean.

Oh, and I wanted to say thank you to **Tissue Paper Tiger** for suggesting the first part of this chapter. I really hadn't even thought of that, and I had completely different plans for this chapter, but I shoved those off until the next update. Thanks, it was a great idea!

* * *

"Well," she heard the voice behind her, and turned, her eyes falling upon the redhead immediately, "I'm surprised at you, Amber."

Amber watched her with crystal eyes, the other girl's lips turned into a slight smirk as she studied Amber. In the few months since Christmas, Amber had made a genuine effort to save what was left of her vanity. She pulled her hair up now, tied it in a ribbon and allowed the few remaining blonde strands to rest behind her ear. She always wore her uniform with pride, always tied the apron around her slender waist carefully, despite the coffee stains that spotted it.

"Surprised?" Amber pursed her lips, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. She blinked, clenching her jaw, and the other girl watched her. "Surprised by what, Shelley?" She wasn't completely sure _why_ she even bothered to ask. She knew what was coming; she knew that none of the girls, or boys, she had been friends with knew about most of her new life. Link was the sole exception; he was the only one of the entire council that Amber associated with, and had even invited he and Tracy over to Corny's house a few times to spend time with her. She knew that, in all honesty, it _was_ a surprise. It was a surprise to see Amber working as what was often considered the lowest occupation one could desire. It was a surprise to all of them that she hadn't returned to the show, long after any physical pain Chip had inflicted upon her had faded. And most of all, she knew it was a surprise that she was still living with Corny, and that they often went out together now, almost as if they were a couple. The thought alone made her blush, but she realized this wasn't the time for that. She focused her gaze on Shelley again.

"Surprised by the fact that you're working here," she started smugly, "I mean, surely, Corny must be paying you _something_ for fucking him."

Amber set her jaw. She should have expected this. It wasn't good enough that she had finally admitted to living with Corny, and that she had gracefully resigned from her position on the show. The unexpected part was that Shelley had even confronted her now, because, for a while, she and Shelley had actually gotten along. They'd sat together at lunch, Amber had listened as Shelley had droned on about the daily gossip that Amber herself couldn't even have pretended to be interested in. Still, they had lived in a kind of orchestrated paradise for a while. When word had gotten around school that Amber was living with Corny, Shelley had become particularly testy again; she had, in fact, shunned her more than any of the other council members had, and although Amber had her assumptions, she wasn't completely sure why.

"I'm not _fucking_ him, Shelley," her voice was low, and her eyes darted around the small café. She was particularly grateful that Shelley hadn't simply said _sleeping with him_, because _that_ was true. Not in the sexual way, of course, but for the past few weeks she had been crawling into his bed at night, just to feel that human contact that she hadn't had in months and so desperately craved. She liked falling asleep next to him, in the sheets that smelled the tiniest bit like a mixture of his cologne and coffee. She found it comforting, knowing that if she woke in the middle of the night, he was _right there_ next to her. She liked waking up next to him in the mornings and being able to talk, and knowing that he would listen. It was the kind of comfort that she'd never known.

It was the first time she'd let herself become completely and willingly vulnerable to another person, maybe her entire life.

"Oh, I bet." Shelley let her fingertips rest on her slim hips, her eyes still watching Amber. "You know, it must be hard going from the self-proclaimed queen of the universe to what you are now." Her words were said with such a sneer that it made Amber's blood run cold.

She wanted to raise her voice, maybe even hit Shelley, or try to scratch her eyes out, but she kept her cold gaze locked on her. She couldn't make a scene, especially not here, at work. The last thing in the world she wanted was to be fired, especially because of something like this. She swallowed hard, and turned her face away.

"You don't even know what you're talking about, Shelley." She narrowed her eyes at the other girl, who arched her eyebrows in return. "You have _no idea_ what you're dealing with."

"Actually," Shelley replied smartly, "I think it's funny. You got knocked down from your pedestal, and now you're on the bottom of the _fucking_ heap." She chuckled softly, "That's all I really need to understand, Amber."

Amber swallowed hard, averting her eyes from her, turning from her before looking at her again.

"What are you doing here? What do you want? If you're going to eat, sit down. If not, get the hell out."

"No, I don't think I will." Shelley took a step closer to her, "Do you understand how long I have _waited_ to see this happen to you? To see you crawling on the ground like the rodent that you are, Amber?"

"You're a bitch," Amber spat the word back at her, "Leave me the hell alone." She turned to leave and Shelley caught her by the arm, her fingernails digging slightly into her arm.

"At least I'm not a fucking _beggar_, Amber." Her blue eyes were laughing suddenly, "You are _disgusting_. You're the same thing as a hooker; you go around begging people to give you money for some pathetic service you offer." She smirked again, "And your _mother_. Oh, _God_, Amber; don't get me started on her. What's it like for her since she's lost her job? Is she living on the streets yet?"

Amber sucked her breath in quickly, and bit down on the inside of her lip. She glared at her, tears forming behind her eyes.

"Fuck you." Amber's words were low, and she could hear her own voice trembling.

Shelley smirked at her, tilting her head slightly.

"Is that any way to talk to a _customer_, Amber?" She sneered, "I don't think your _boss_ would be very happy if I happened to tell him what you just said to me." She grinned, playing with her fingernails for a moment, making no attempt to hide the joy in her voice. "Do you think he'd fire you?" Their eyes met suddenly, and she grinned.

Amber made a conscious effort to remain stoic. She was half tempted to call her out on her bluff, but knew better. Shelley was a vicious girl, and Amber knew that she would stoop to levels lower than even humanly comprehensible if tempted. She wasn't going to push her.

"What do you want from me?" She was a victim again, begging Shelley in so many words not to hurt her, not to cause her any more pain than she'd already been through. As she studied the other girl, she couldn't help but feel somewhat sorry for her. Shelley was eighteen years old, a high school senior. She thought the world _was_ Baltimore, had no idea that there was something beyond The Corny Collins Show. And though Amber was technically younger than Shelley by a few months, she felt so much older. Older than Shelley would ever be.

"I don't want anything," Shelley's voice was low, "because I've _gotten_ everything I wanted. I got your place on the show; I got to see you knocked on your ass. Believe me, Amber…you've already given me _everything_ I wanted." Shelley kept her eyes focused on her, reaching her hand around to the café's counter and pushing two full glasses of liquid onto the floor, smirking as they crashed to the ground, glass and their contents spilling around their feet. "Oops." She glanced down at the billowing liquid, and then back up at Amber. "I guess there is one more thing you can do for me. Get a mop and clean this shit up, like the fucking servant that you are."

Shelley stepped out of the way, her heels clicking as she made her way to the door and pushed through, not looking back at Amber.

Amber bit her lip, closing her eyes as she left. There was no point in fighting it. She stepped out of the way of the glass, returning a moment later with a broom, sweeping the floor until the bristles of the broom dripped with moisture. She tossed the shattered glass into the garbage can, thinking for a moment that she could sympathize with it. She knew how it felt to be knocked down, shattered, and thrown into the trash.

She got home from work a little after eleven, and tried to sneak up the stairs and through the house without waking Corny. She showered, if only to get the smell of smoke out of her hair, and then slipped into her silky nightgown, the one that brushed against her skin and made her feel like she was swimming in a pool of cream. It was soft, and smooth, and it caressed her in all the right places.

She slipped down the hall, and through the crack in Corny's bedroom door. She was silent, so as not to disturb him, and pulled the sheets back, sliding in beside him and curling away from him, into her usual position. She buried her face in her pillow, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to block the world out. She was home now, no matter how badly tonight had gone. She was home, in this bed that smelled like him, and everything was okay again, if only until tomorrow.

"You're home late tonight," his voice was groggy, and she could tell that he had been sleeping, even though she knew he would pretend he hadn't been. She turned slightly, looking at him in the darkness and laying on her belly, her cheek against the pillow.

"Yeah." Her voice was quiet, "I had to do something at work."

"Oh," he said softly, "Well, you're here now. That's good."

She tried to close her eyes and sleep again, but Shelley's words and images flashed in her mind suddenly. She swore softly, turning toward the wall and kicking the blankets from her legs angrily. She heard him shift beside her.

"Amber?" He was going to ask her what was wrong, she knew it before the words left his mouth, but she kept her face turned away from him. "What's wrong?"

"One of the council girls came into work, Corny." She hadn't necessarily meant to say the words, but they slipped out, and she turned to him slowly as he propped himself up on his arm to look at her.

"What happened?"

"She said some awful things to me." Her voice was small.

"Which one?" He sounded firm now, and she could tell, even in the darkness, that he was watching her.

"I can't-I can't tell you." She sighed softly, "I don't want you to make any rash decisions because of something someone said to me. That's not fair to them."

"It's not fair to _you_, Amber." He was still studying her, "Was it Shelley?"

She wasn't completely sure how he'd gotten it right on the first try, but she kept still, didn't say a word. She found his hand slowly, in the dark of the bedroom, tangling their fingers together. His warm hand cupped hers, and she smiled slightly into her pillow.

"It was Shelley," he sighed after a moment, "what did she say, Amber?"

She shook her head.

"I don't-I don't want to tell you." If he didn't already know people thought they were having sex, she didn't want to be the one to have to tell him. It would hurt his pride, that was for sure, and make Amber feel guiltier than she already did.

He was silent for a moment, and decided not to press her. If she didn't want to talk, fine. Still, his heart was suddenly pounding, his mind racing with consequences for Shelley's actions. She wouldn't get away with this.

"Okay," he whispered back to her, squeezing her hand. "But listen to me, Amber. One day, people are going to realize how amazing you are. They're going to realize that you are _so_ much stronger than any of them realized."

Amber didn't respond, just listened to him in the darkness, her mouth suddenly dry.

"One day, you'll see some of the girls you used to be friends with, and you'll be able to smile, and wave at them and you won't even _think_ about what's happening right now." He moved closer to her, if only by an inch, resting his head on his pillows, his eyes locked on hers. "And you'll find a good guy; someone who can show you how a woman should be treated. You'll see that not everyone is bad, Amber."

His words made her eyes burn with tears, her throat close up. It was so foreign to her, the idea that one day, she'd learn to trust again. Well, learn to trust someone _other_ than him. She'd been relying solely on his companionship for so long that it felt unusual to even _think_ about wanting to find new friends. It felt so strange to hear him say those words; _find a good guy_. He didn't know she'd already found the _best_ one.

She was flushed suddenly, and was somewhat certain that he could hear her heart pounding in her chest. She swallowed back her fear, and raised her trembling fingers, the hand that wasn't entwined with his. She moved slightly, placing her fingertips on the side of his face, so gently that she wasn't even completely sure he could feel her touch. His skin was warm, and smooth, and she pulled herself up just enough so that she could support herself on her elbows as she spoke.

"Not everyone is _you_, Corny." She knew she should have done it in one quick motion, got it over with so that her nerves could stop being so jittery, but that wasn't right. That wasn't what she wanted; she needed this, but she needed it to be soft, and slow, not quick and meaningless.

She lowered her head toward his, her breath shallow and irregular. Her lips met his slowly, covering them in a soft yet intense kiss. She was trembling, her fingers brushing his cheek, her lips on his for another moment before she worked up the courage to slip her tongue into his mouth. She was sobbing now, on the inside, for him. For him to be the one to love her, for him to tell her that she could stay here, _right_ here, in this house, in this bed. It was the one place that she'd found comfort.

The kiss was longer than she'd expected it to be, and as she pulled away from him, his eyes watching her, she curled into the space between his arm and chest, letting her head rest on him. She listened to the steady thump of his heart and realized something.

It wasn't this house, or this bed that was her home. It was _him_.


	20. Decision

I swear I'm almost done with this story!! The way I have it planned, there will only be... four, at the most, five new chapters left. But what a ride it's been!!

And I'm glad you guys responded positively to what I had happen in the last chapter. I wasn't quite sure, and I _thought_ I took it slowly enough, but I wasn't sure.

Oh yes, and a few things to address:

1. NO! Amber and Shelley are _not_ getting together in this story. It's the furthest thing from what's going to happen. I just like Shelley, and I think she's probably the biggest bitch of the council girls, so she served my needs well for the last chapter.

2. I'm sorry, I know I use italics a lot, but it's because I read my stories outloud, and wherever I stress a word, I put it in italics. I've tried not to do it so much in this chapter, so I hope some of you find it less distracting.

Anyway, I think that's it. This is like the longest author's note ever. Just wanted to clear those things up.

* * *

Amber couldn't stop thinking about that kiss. She couldn't stop thinking about the way his lips had tasted; the way they had felt against her own. It was infuriating; the fact that he had said nothing to her about it. She had rested against him for what seemed like hours, until she was sure he had fallen asleep, but she couldn't even begin to think about sleep. Her mind was racing with thoughts; why hadn't he said anything? He hadn't even attempted to make any sort of contact with her save the way he had slipped his arm around her waist somewhat protectively afterwards. She let him hold her that way for hours, though she was completely sure he had fallen asleep beside her. 

"Okay. Goodnight, then." She whispered the words finally, rolling away from him and into her pillows. Her face was burning with shame and humiliation at the prospect of ruining the one thing in her life that had been perfect. And although he was only inches from her, and she could feel the warmth of his body, she couldn't sleep that night. It was the first night she'd laid awake in Corny's bed. There was a strange knot in her stomach that she wasn't completely sure she'd ever had before; it was the fear of rejection.

"Do you think you'll come to the dance next Saturday?" Tracy asked her the next day as she, Link, and Amber made their way home from school. Tracy and Link held hands casually, and Amber followed just a step behind them, feeling somewhat left out.

"Oh, I don't know. I hadn't thought about it." She honestly hadn't. She felt so much older; so far removed from everyone in her school that she often forgot she was just a student like the rest of them. It had been months since she'd considered herself one of them; she just went through the daily motions of school, but never stopped to think what she was actually doing there.

"You should come," Link encouraged her, "It will be fun."

She swallowed hard, kept her eyes focused straight ahead. Fun? Fun because she didn't have anyone to dance with, or because Shelley had surely already spread the news of their confrontation to the rest of the school, and now they would all have a chance to laugh at and mock her in a similar manner? No, thank you.

"I don't know," she answered unsurely, determined not to commit herself in any way. "I'll just have to see, I guess. Corny might have plans for us that evening, anyway." She felt somewhat stupid saying the words; as if she and Corny were a couple and he made dinner plans for them without asking her. She blushed slightly, but neither Tracy nor Link seemed to notice.

"Okay," Tracy answered coolly, "Well, I hope you decide to come." They stopped in front of Corny's house, and the three of them stopped to look at each other.

"Thank you for walking me home," she said the words softly, and started to turn, to go up the stairs. She wanted to tell them so badly about the kiss, to ask them to come in and ask Corny exactly what the hell he was thinking so that she wouldn't be forced to do it herself, but knew she couldn't. This was just another one of those secrets that she couldn't tell anyone.

She climbed the stairs of the house and used her key to get in. After placing her books on a side table by the door, she proceeded to make her way through the house, her eyes stopping on Corny in the living room. He sat on the couch; his eyes were studying the paper, but she knew they weren't actually seeing it. He looked deep in concentration, and she swallowed hard. This was it. He was going to break her heart, just like everyone else always did. He was going to tell her to gather her shit and go, and that was going to put an end to the perfect fairy-tale of a life she had packed herself into. Her legs trembled as she moved toward him, her eyes watching him fearfully.

"Hi," she said the word softly, and he looked up from the paper, his face serious. "How are you?"

He forced a tight smile at her, his hands placing the paper on the coffee table.

"Hey. I'm okay. How was school?"

"Fine," she answered, looking away from him, her face flushing. She was biting her tongue now. She _needed_ to know what he was thinking; what he was planning, or if he was disgusted by her suddenly. She began to study her fingernails, leaning against a chair.

"Listen, I-"

"Amber, we need to-"

They both began to speak at the same time, and she looked up foolishly. Her face was hot, her heart was pounding. He was getting ready to say those damning words: we need to talk. That was never good.

"You first," she smiled softly at him. What she had to say could wait because, truthfully, she had no idea what to say. And though she had a feeling his words were going to hurt, she needed to hear them before she committed another foolish act.

He smiled softly at her, and patted the cushion on the couch beside him.

"Come here." His words were soft, and his eyes were kind, albeit full of worry, and she let herself move toward him slowly, her knees bending until she sat beside him. He reached out and took her hands, and her eyes met his. "I…wasn't going to say anything, because I wasn't completely sure you even wanted to know, but…I think you need to." His eyebrows furrowed, and she began to chew on the inside of her lip. She hung her head suddenly. What was it? Was he dating someone? Was this 'arrangement' between them, simply that, and nothing more? She felt the tears burning her eyes before he even spoke, and she couldn't bring herself to look at him as she prepared for the worst.

"Amber," he held her reassuringly, his thumbs stroking the back of her hands. She prepared herself for the fatal blow, her stomach churning. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, and she finally let her tear-filled eyes meet his. She hadn't meant to cry, of course, but simply knowing what was awaiting her made her want to sob. He met her eyes. "Sweetheart, listen to me. It's your mother. She's in the hospital."

That was _not_ what she had been expecting, needless to say. Her mouth slipped open, her eyes darkening.

"What?" She gasped the word, "Why…how?" She caught herself quickly; she knew why. "How?" She repeated herself, still watching him, "What happened? How do you know?"

She could feel herself beginning to tremble, and attempted to steady herself. He held her hands tighter, his eyes still watching her. She could feel herself beginning to break, and commanded herself to stay strong.

"The new station manager told me today," he said the words gently, watching her uncertainly. "I didn't…I couldn't decide whether or not to tell you. You've been, you know, doing so well. I didn't want to be the one to bring you back to…that world."

She watched him, her jaw trembling.

"This is what happens," she found herself saying quietly, "when I start to forget about it. When I start to try and be 'normal' again, this is what happens." She had been so caught up in worrying about that damn kiss; about her stupid feelings for Corny that she had started to forget the _real_ reason she was here; to heal.

She pulled out of his grasp quickly, hurrying to grab her purse and keys. He watched her, his eyes full of concern and fear.

"Where are you going?"

She spun on her heels to look at him, her eyes brimming with tears.

"To see her, Corny! She's my mother, I have to go!" She could barely find her voice now.

"Then I'm coming with you," he stood, and started to pull on his suit jacket.

"No." Her voice was firm, her gaze steady. Her tongue wet her lips, and she frowned suddenly, moving closer to him. "I appreciate it, but I need to do this alone." She left before he had time to protest.

When she returned home an hour and a half later, Corny was waiting for her. She met his eyes as she entered the living room, and he watched her guardedly.

"How is she?" The tone of his voice told Amber that he knew it was a stupid question, but one that fell from his lips instinctively. She sighed, swallowed the lump in her throat, and glared up at him.

"Not very good, Corny." A stupid question deserved a stupid answer. She couldn't stop seeing her face; black and blue, swollen in places that Amber had never realized could swell. It was far worse than any markings he'd ever left on her. She closed her eyes, trying to push the images from her mind. It was painful to see her mother that way; one eye swollen shut, the other bloody. It wasn't Velma. It couldn't have been. Velma would never have let that happen to herself; she knew how to protect herself. That woman lying in that hospital bed was a broken shell of the woman Velma Von Tussle had been. Her mother hadn't been exactly happy to see her. From the moment Amber had entered the hospital room, Velma had sat stoically, listening to Amber speak. It was heartbreaking, to see what little strength her mother had left using it against her. She had tried to make small-talk, and had eventually broken into tears again in front of her. Velma had said only enough to make Amber aware of what had happened, and exactly how she had gotten so hurt.

"What…happened?" She could tell he already knew the answer, and he moved closer to her. He sat next to her, their knees almost touching, and she looked up at him.

"She tried to fight back." The words were simple, but they said everything necessary.

"Is she going to be all right?" He asked after a long pause. Amber clenched her jaw.

"Well, she doesn't have any permanent brain damage if that's what you mean. She'll be in the hospital for another few days." Her gaze was locked on him, and she suddenly hated herself for being so cold with him. It wasn't that she wanted to be. The pain was just too fresh; she hadn't even begun to digest the sight of the strongest woman she'd ever known reduced to nothing more than a broken, disgusting mess. The same mess that Amber herself was, only worse. And though Corny didn't know it yet, Amber had begun to formulate a plan in her head. A plan that terrified her; made her want to throw up and cry at the same time.

She hated herself for not thinking of it before, and suddenly she knew. She was going to make Chip pay for this; for her, for Velma, and whoever the fuck else he might have hurt. Amber was going to get her revenge.

The next few days went by in a whirlwind, and Amber had yet to mention anything about her plan to Corny, or anyone else. She didn't see the necessity until she figured out exactly what she was going to do, because until then, it would be too easy for her to be dissuaded, talked out of it. Once she set her mind on exactly what needed to be done, however, there was no way to sway her decision.

She had been working late every night, and taking longer to drive home so that she had more time to think about what she needed to do. By the time she crawled into Corny's bed, he was always asleep, and for that, she was somewhat grateful. Although it was now four days after that fateful kiss, he hadn't mentioned it to her. He pretended that it had never happened, and she couldn't decide whether to be offended or hurt by his seeming lack of interest in her, and it. Her mind had been so full of plans, swimming with ideas that she pretended not to notice, or care. But, that was just pretending. Deep inside, a part of her did care, and felt neglected by him for the first time in a long time.

On the night that Amber had made her decision; the night that she suddenly knew _exactly_ how to make Chip pay for what he had done, she went to bed early. Corny was the one working late for a change, and she had crawled into his bed without him, pulling the sheets around her as she closed her eyes, letting her mind swim. Yes, she was so certain now; she knew what needed to be done. She also knew that she couldn't do it alone, and that she would need the help of Corny, at least. She was positive that Link would be on board with her, though she still hadn't told him the entire truth about what had happened with her and Chip, and made it a priority to do so at the next appropriate time.

She laid still in the darkness for a long time, and heard Corny come home sometime later. She pretended to be asleep, but listened as the water rushed through the shower. She was still awake when he slid into bed beside her, and though she tried not to notice, she could smell him. His soap, his shampoo, just him. It made her toes curl unconsciously, and she bit the inside of her lip, determined to make him believe that she was asleep.

He didn't move for a moment, and then shifted, and she knew he was turning to look at her. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, and suddenly, she felt his fingers in her palm, his dull fingernails lightly scratching her skin. He worked his hand around hers, and she clenched her teeth, her eyes still shut. She felt him move closer to her, his voice low as he spoke.

"You're almost as good at pretending to be asleep as I am," his voice was barely a whisper, and though she tried to fight it, she felt her eyelids flittering open to look at him. He smiled at her, then pulled on her hand, encouraging her to move closer to him. She hesitated for a moment, and then, somewhat reluctantly let herself move, into the space between his arm and chest. The arm that he held her with tightened around her waist, albeit somewhat tentatively. He cleared his throat, and she closed her eyes. _Now_ it was going to happen; he was going to tell her that he was secretly married, or engaged. He was going to break her heart into a million pieces.

"I'm sorry," she professed softly, her lips trembling, "I shouldn't have-well, you know. I just shouldn't have. I wasn't thinking, or something." It wasn't true. She had thought about it; long and hard, and had decided that kissing Corny was the only thing that had made sense at that time. But still, it was easier to pretend that she had acted impulsively.

"I-" he began to speak, and she heard him swallow, "Amber, don't apologize." His cheek was against the top of her head, and he stroked her hip through her thin pajamas. She swallowed hard. "I would have kissed you first, but…I didn't know if you were ready, or, _interested_. I didn't know…I had no idea how to respond." He sounded so unsure of himself that it made her turn her face to look up at his.

"It's been so long since I've actually wanted to kiss someone," she admitted to him softly, curling her fingers against his chest, "I just didn't know what to do."

He held her close to him, his lips brushing lightly against her forehead.

"Well," his voice was soft and comforting, "If you ever _do_ decide that you want to kiss me again, I'm right here waiting, Amber."

She felt herself smiling, and curled into his embrace. That was exactly what she had been hoping to hear.


	21. Plan

**I can't believe this story is almost over. Oh my!**

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"What's going on?" Link was watching her unsurely, and glanced at Corny for support. They were seated in Corny's living room, Amber on the couch between them. She pulled her legs up under her and let her hands rest in her lap.

"I need your help." It was the first she'd said to either of them about her plan, and she wasn't completely sure how to begin to explain it to them. She fought back the lump in her throat and her lips twitched into a frown. She glanced at both of the men, who watched her with an uneasy expression.

"What's wrong?" Corny asked after a minute.

She took a moment to compose herself, running over the plans in her mind, concreting them. She needed to say the words, because as soon as she did, they would be out there, and they wouldn't be as easy to cancel. Right now, while they were in her head, she could change her mind, because of fear, or uncertainty.

"I want," she said the words slowly, her eyes closing for a moment, "No. I _need_. I need to get my revenge."

Her words sounded so cold, even to her, and she turned to glare at Corny, who had taken to watching her speechlessly. Link shifted slightly on the other side of her, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"What do you mean?" Link was unsure, obviously, and Amber couldn't blame him. It was a frightening thing, what she was planning to do, but it needed to be done. Link didn't know that yet, because he hadn't seen the monster. He had seen the angry man Chip could become, not the beast beneath all of that.

"On Chip." The words explained themselves.

"What…kind of revenge?" Link was the only one asking questions, and she took that as a good sign. It meant that Corny was probably agreeing with her, probably just waiting until she told him what she wanted and needed to do. Her hands were trembling, and she held them together, willing them to stop making such a fool out of her right now, when she needed to be strong.

She watched Link seriously with her blue eyes, swallowed hard, and moved to sit on the coffee table so that she could study both men at the same time. Link looked so young, so naïve next to Corny, who was watching her with dark eyes that understood what she was saying, and why she had to do this. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and she dropped her head for a moment before looking up at them again.

"I need to get back into that house," she began slowly, too afraid to look directly at them as she spoke. "I _have_ to get in there, and I have to get Chip to touch me again. I've got to get him to try and rape me, or hit me." She looked directly at Corny now, who was regarding her with eyes full of uncertainty, "I need you to get your police friends. You know, the ones that took me back there that time. I need you to be able to call them _exactly_ when I need them, so that they can get in there, and see it. They'll see him touching me, or whatever the hell he's going to do."

She frowned. This sounded much better in her mind. She had worked out every intricate detail in her brain, and saying it aloud sounded like she'd just thought of it spur of the moment. She glanced at Corny, who had turned his gaze from her, then at Link, who was watching her uncertainly.

"You're going to go back?" Link asked, obviously not catching on. She shook her head.

"Yes, Link. I need to get back in there, just slip in there while he's out. To pretend I'm getting clothes, or something. And when I hear him in the living room, I'll come out. He'll try to hurt me, and that's where you guys come in. I need you to make _sure_ that you can get the police there when I need them. Otherwise…" her voice faded. Otherwise, she had no idea what would happen to her. She looked hopefully up at them.

"You're going to provoke him?" It was Link again. Corny still sat stoically across from her, his eyes studying her face now. Amber set her jaw, her eyes catching Link's.

"No. He won't need to be provoked."

They were all silent for a moment, and Amber cleared her throat.

"I need to do this, guys. It's the only way I'll _ever_ get any kind of justice for what he did to me, and my mother." She swallowed hard, "And I really need your help." She felt tears burning in her eyes suddenly, and looked away from them. "He took _so_ much from me. He would have killed me if he could, and he hasn't had to face _any_ kind of repercussions for that. It's not fair. I never went to the hospital after he raped me. There's no evidence that he's even touched me, aside from the fact that others saw the bruises." She dropped her head. "This is the only way the police will ever find out about him."

"You're setting yourself in a trap, Amber." It was the first thing Corny had said, and both she and Link looked at him, their eyes wide.

"I know," she answered him quietly, "but I have to." Her blue eyes were pleading with him, her lips silently begging him. "You know that, Corny."

She saw him swallow hard, and turn away. Her heart began to pound in her chest. What if they refused to go along with it now? After all of the planning she'd done. She certainly couldn't do this alone. She wanted both of them to help her, but if worst came to worst, she could use Corny alone. There was no way she could do this without Corny's cooperation.

Corny didn't reply, and let his eyes move to the floor. She looked hopefully at Link, who furrowed his brows.

"Amber, I don't think this is safe." She should have been thanking him for taking her wellbeing into account, but instead, she felt her face flushing.

"Safe?" She nearly choked on the word, "What's not _safe_ is living with a man that rapes and abuses you! What's not safe is letting him continue to walk the streets because everyone else is too damn lazy to do a damn thing about it!" Her face was flushed, and she looked helplessly towards Corny, begging him to say something, _anything_, to tell her that he was behind her on this.

"And what happens…" Corny began slowly, watching her face, "if the police don't get there on time?"

It was a simple question, but Amber didn't have the answer. That hadn't crossed her mind. She began to stammer, her face flushing with heat.

"That's not…that's not going to happen," she tried to cover up her flawed plan. "Because that's what you're going to be in charge of." At least she hoped.

The three of them sat in silence for a moment, and Amber dropped her head into her hands.

"Please," she heard herself begging, "Please, please. You don't understand. I have _got_ to do something." She raised her head, watching both of them with tear-filled eyes. "You don't know what it's like to have someone destroy you, and then not be able to do anything about it. You don't know what it's like to know that he's walking around free after what he did to us!" She swallowed a sob, squeezing her eyes shut. "Even if he only goes to jail, it's something. It's more than I've got right now."

"What do I have to do?" Link asked her after a moment, and she wasn't sure if that meant he was agreeing to go along with it, or simply weighing his options.

"Uh, I'll need you to be outside the house," she told him, suddenly feeing more sure of herself. "You'll have to signal to me, to let me know when Chip's coming home so that I know when to be ready. You'll also have to make sure no one comes home, or my plan will be interrupted. If you see my mother, or _anyone_ but the police coming towards the house, make them leave." She was talking quickly now, and looked toward Corny. "And you have to call the police at exactly the right time." She studied him with heavy eyes, "You're going to be the one that's in charge of saving me."

"So you're going to set him up." Link's words hit her hard, and she glared at him.

"No, I'm not setting him up. I'm simply going to be in the wrong place at the wrong time." She narrowed her eyes, "And when he attacks, which he will, we're going to make sure he gets what he deserves."

There was a silence longer than any other she'd ever experienced, and finally watched as Link nodded.

"Okay. I'll help you."

She felt the corners of her lips turning into a soft smile.

"Thank you." She turned to look at Corny. Her entire plan, her entire future depended on what he said; if he went along with it, or not. He let his eyes meet hers, but he clenched his jaw, and looked away from her before standing and walking out of the room. She felt her stomach drop, her eyes watching him as he went.

"Excuse me," she barely whispered the words to Link, and let her feet carry her after Corny. She moved down the hall, swallowing the lump in her throat as she came to the doorframe of his bedroom. He was standing with his back away from her, his eyes fixed on the window. She curled her fingers against the doorframe, chewing on the inside of her lip.

"Corny." She said his name, unsure of exactly how she felt. She narrowed her eyes, tears burning in them, and took a step into the bedroom.

"This is stupid, Amber." He turned to look at her so quickly that she was taken aback for a moment. Her heart began to pound, her cheeks flushed.

"What?" She could barely find her voice, "It's not stupid!"

"Yes it is!" He shot back at her, "Do you have any idea what could happen? Did you happen to think about that when you were envisioning this marvelous little plan of yours?" His eyes narrowed at her, "He is _dangerous_, Amber, and you're just throwing yourself into the lion's den!"

"You're the one who told me to!" Her voice was shrill now, and tears were threatening to spill down her cheeks, "You told me that I shouldn't live the rest of my life afraid of him! Now I'm going to do something about it, and you're telling me I'm stupid for it?" She caught herself before she sobbed, and forced her tears to stay at bay. "You're a hypocrite! You tell me to do one thing, and when I try, you refuse to help me and tell me I'm stupid!"

"I didn't say you were stupid!" His voice was loud now, "And I never told you to do this! I did not fucking tell you to go over to that damn house and throw yourself at him and ask him to hurt you again!"

Her breath was shallow in her throat, and she began to take small, shuddering breaths.

"I'm not throwing myself at him," she explained, her voice softer now, her eyes brimming with tears, "I have never thrown myself at him. I didn't ask to be raped, Corny." Was that was he was implying? After all these months, he was suggesting that she had _deserved_ to be raped? To be hit, and abused?

"I didn't say that!" He shot back at her, "Stop twisting my words, Amber! I said that it's stupid of you to willingly go back in there! You barely escaped the first time! I am supposed to be protecting you!"

She felt the tears slipping down her cheeks, and turned away from him.

"You don't understand!" She sobbed suddenly, "He enjoyed hurting me, and he's walking free! Nobody else cares! Nobody else even knows what he did to me, and my mother! If I don't do this, he's going to live the rest of his life thinking that what he did was okay, and he'll do it again! I deserve better than that, Corny!"

She knew her make-up was running, and could feel her knees trembling. She dropped her head, desperate not to look at him right now. Of everyone, she assumed that he would understand; the one person who had stood by her through all of this. She cried quietly into her hands, her body trembling. So, this was it. This was what it had come down to. She was going to spend the rest of her life afraid of him because she couldn't get the support that she needed to do what she wanted to do.

"I'm sorry," his voice was soft again now, and sounded closer than it had been. She felt his hands on her arms suddenly, pulling her into his chest, and wrapping her in his embrace. "I know you do, baby."

She was hesitant at first, to lean into him, but gave in quickly, and let her head rest on his chest, his fingers stroking her back. She wiped tears from her eyes, turning her face into his chest and inhaling the scent of him. She shuddered from the aftershock of her tears, her fingers clutching his shirt as she sniffled.

"I'll help you," his cheek was resting on the top of her head, and he let his fingers brush the ends of her hair, "I will."

She closed her eyes as another tear slipped down her cheek, and nodded against him.

"Thank you," her words were barely a whisper, "I can't do it without you."

"I just don't want you to get hurt, Amber. That would kill me." He swallowed hard, and she nestled into him.

"I won't," she promised him, although part of her feared that very same thing. "I'll be fine. Really."

"I just want to protect you," he whispered the words to her after a moment, "and if you're in there, alone with Chip, I can't."

She bit on her lip, squeezing her eyes shut to prevent any tears from slipping out.

"You've protected me for a long time now, Corny." She nuzzled against him, "And right now, I need to protect myself, too."

"Okay." He didn't sound happy about it, and Amber knew that he probably wasn't, but he didn't release his hold on her. "I just...care about you. A lot."

Her body trembled, and she instinctively held onto him tighter.

"I care about you a lot, too," she whispered the words back to him. Corny cleared his throat.

"What do you need me to do?" He asked quietly. She didn't move, didn't open her eyes, and pressed herself closer to him.

"Right now, I just need you to hold me."

He circled his arms around her, and complied.

It suddenly occurred to Amber that she was, or had already fallen, in love with Corny.


	22. Wait

This is a two-part chapter, of course. But the next chapter is easily THE most important one of the entire story, so it might take a little longer than usual for the update. But it will be worth it. I promise.

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As she did all of the menial tasks that needed to be done, as she prepared herself for what _might_ happen, she told herself that she was ready. In a way, she was; she had been ready to make him pay for what he had done to her since the first moment he'd touched her. She was ready to make him fall onto his knees, for others to see him as the lowlife that he was. Still, there was something frightening about the task that she had in store.

It was hard, even after that talk she and Corny had had, to convince him that this was the right thing to do. Even though he gave her all of the support he could, she could tell that he was reluctant to do so. Each time she made an addition to the plan, or changed anything, the corners of his mouth would draw into a hesitant frown. She would always pretend not to notice.

Corny had tried everything he could think of to dissuade her. Even if he knew that she needed some form of justice, he didn't want _her_ to have to be the one to serve it to Chip. He made it clear that he didn't believe Amber should step foot back inside that house, and had even asked her, if she was serious about this, if he could wait in her bedroom just in case things got out of control, and she needed him. It had broken her heart to say no, but she needed to be there alone. If Chip saw, or suspected that _anything_ was out of character, he would be gone quicker than a wink. She could not let him escape again.

He hated the idea that Amber couldn't give him more specific plans, and though it worried her as well, she tried not to let on. She had simply told him to wait twenty minutes from the time Link saw Chip enter the house. Twenty minutes was all it would take, she was sure. And though she didn't allow herself to think of it, she was slightly worried that twenty minutes might be a little _too_ much time.

She had taken the last few days as an extreme precaution; had waited patiently outside the house, watching, observing the exact time that Chip got there every night. It was usually just after seven o'clock, so she decided that today, the day she had picked to go through with this orchestrated idea, to show up just around six o'clock. That gave her an hour of preparation, an hour to convince herself that she was strong enough to do this.

Corny had tried to distract her that day, tried to get her to forget about all of this. He tried to tell her they could move, into a different city, a different state even. He was willing to give up everything to keep her from going back to that place. It didn't matter, though. She had told him, quite simply, that no matter how far they ran, Chip would be there. She would always see him, always hear him, always _fear_ him if she didn't do this.

Corny had stopped trying to deter her after that.

He had hugged her before she left for the house, and he'd held on a little longer than she'd expected him to. He'd watched her with dark eyes as she'd slipped out the front door silently, letting her feet carry her down the sidewalk. She couldn't drive there; if he saw a strange car on the street, he might get suspicious. She didn't want to take _any_ chances. She began toward the corner, and pretended not to realize that she could feel Corny's eyes watching her.

By the time she reached the house, her heart was racing and her throat was dry, and not because of the physical exertion of walking. She noticed Link was already staked out in his hiding spot, and for a moment, almost chuckled at the ridiculousness of the entire situation. Corny waiting, phone in hand, to call the police; Link hidden meticulously behind garbage cans in an alley way, and she herself simply waiting to be attacked by her worst nightmare. Under any other conditions, these circumstances would have been laughable. However, as she used her key to slip through the front door and into her room, she realized there was nothing humorous about this state of affairs.

She realized it was careless of her, but she didn't exactly know _where_ her mother was. She hadn't seen, or heard from her, since that day at the hospital almost two weeks ago. She hadn't caught sight of her entering, or exiting, the house, during the entire time she'd spent watching. That uncertainty left a knot in her stomach and a lump in her throat. She could only hope that Velma had gotten smart and decided to leave. Something told her _that_ wasn't the case.

She locked herself inside the room that had once been hers, tip-toeing silently around, tracing her fingers over the extravagant furniture that she'd had for years. It was eerily cold in the room, but her face was flushed enough to keep her warm. It was so odd; this room was so different now. Her bed was gone, though she wasn't completely sure where. Her closets were empty, and though the majority of what had used to be their contents were now in the cedar closets in Corny's house, certainly not all of them were. She assumed that Velma must have thrown the rest of her clothes out when she'd left; it was probably her subtle attempt at getting back at her. Well, she could have the clothes. Burn them, tear them, destroy them. Better the clothes than Amber herself.

The room that had once been her sanctuary was just another room now. There were no traces of the thousands of nights she stayed up, practicing for the show the next afternoon. There were no reminiscences of the times when, as a teenager, she would bring Link into this room, and demand to be kissed, and worshipped. Demanded him to treat her the way she thought that she, as a queen, should be treated. God, she had been such a fool.

This room was full of different memories now; ones that had been haunting her for months. Recollections of Chip's heavy grunting, the blistering pain that she had been forced to live with. All of the horrible, disgusting things he had said to her; the names he had called her, that she had started to believe were true. It suddenly seemed that all of her childhood memories, her pre-adolescent years; they were all gone. It seemed that she couldn't remember anything before the first time he had violated her. That girl before that, she'd been a different world; one that had no idea what the word 'reality' meant. All of this, all of her internal monologue, it began to fuel her for the mission that lay ahead. It was encouraging her, telling her not to forget that she'd been devastated beyond any sort of repair and that no matter what she did, or what happened because of this, she was _not _allowed to back out.

She let herself sit on the stool of her vanity, her hands in her lap. She remembered this place so clearly; it was where she had sat that first morning after, when she'd tried to scrub the blood from her legs. She had convinced herself at that point that her life had been over; that he would be the one to kill her. And maybe he would, but that was a chance she had to take. A chance no one else would ever understand unless they'd been in this situation.

She thought she heard a creak from beyond her bedroom door and sucked her breath in, listening. It could have been anything; the heat, the air. It could have been the sounds of the house stretching, accommodating. Yet, somehow, she knew that wasn't what it was.

She held her breath, listening, and heard the distinct sound of keys jingling. The front door opened, and she felt her blood run cold. What if it wasn't him? What if it was her mother? She'd been so stupid; she hadn't even taken enough precaution to find out _where_ her mother was, or would be right now. She began to panic, and hurried across the room silently, peering down, out her window. She could see Link, still watching carefully. As if on cue, his eyes rose to hers, and he nodded slightly. He was telling her that Chip was inside the house. The countdown had begun, which meant she had to hurry.

She moved away from the window, suddenly feeling weak and sick to her stomach. Amber heard him belch loudly in the living room, and her face contorted into a disgusted sneer. She swallowed hard, moving back across the room, letting her fingers rest quietly on the doorknob that, once she pulled on it, would expose her. She set her jaw, and narrowed her eyes. This was it; there was no turning back now.

She pulled the door open, and stepped into the hallway.

It was time for her to face the devil.


	23. War

Oh wow!! Look how fast I updated! I thought it would take a really long time to write this chapter, but it just started flowing and wouldn't stop! Anyway, I hope I satisfied you guys...the next and last chapter will be up soon. Sniff, sniff. It will wrap everything up, I promise. I hope you all enjoy.

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She took a few small, unsure steps into the hallway. She could hear him; sense him, just on the other side of that wall. She heard the television humming, and knew he was on the couch, stretched out right in front of it, wallowing in his own disgustingness. She held her breath suddenly, slipping down the hallway quicker now, finding her strength and moving on it before it was gone.

From her place in the hallway, she could see him on the couch. She tried to steady her rapidly beating heart, and he stood suddenly, moving around the couch and towards the kitchen. She knew she had to do it know. She had to make herself known before he started to do something and didn't hear her commotion. She glanced around desperately, as if she hadn't lived here for eighteen years, looking for anything to knock over, anything to draw attention to herself. Upon realizing the umbrella stand was directly next to her, she swallowed hard and stuck her foot out, toeing the rack to the ground. It collapsed with a loud crash, and she let her eyes look up just as Chip's gaze moved to her. His dark eyes flashed, and a malevolent smirk pressed across his lips. He had seen her.

She didn't have to pretend to be afraid, then. Her blood was pumping through her veins; adrenaline was the only thing keeping her from running out that door right now. She had let herself begin to doubt it while she had been waiting, but now she knew. This was now, and it was happening. There was no turning back.

"You," He said the word as if it were a curse, standing still and watching her for a moment. She felt herself shrinking against the wall, inching her way down the hall.

"I just…I came back…I needed to get some things," her voice was smaller than she would have liked it to be, and tried to clear her throat inconspicuously.

"You sure about that?" He began to move toward her now, and she felt her legs beginning to tremble. She pressed herself against the wall for support, and without realizing that she was creating a perfect trap for herself. "You know what I think? I think maybe you _wanted_ to come back here, you little slut. I think you came back here lookin' to get what you deserve from me."

She shook her head quickly, blue eyes widening as he moved closer to her. There was something different about tonight; something about that sway in his step, that glossy look in his eyes. Every other time he had touched her, his gaze had been sharp, focused on her. But not tonight; it was different now, and as he moved closer to her, she realized what it was. She could smell it on his breath suddenly, as he pushed himself against her. He was drunk.

She let herself panic suddenly; this wasn't what she had expected. She had never _dealt_ with him drunk before, she was sure of that. She'd never even been around him when he was drunk. She was dealing with a completely different situation tonight. The smell of the liquor on his breath was so intoxicating that she coughed, and he let out a dry laugh, grabbing her wrists suddenly. She squealed at the sudden pain, looking up at him fearfully.

"This time," he said the words, his voice heavy with malice, "you're not going to escape."

She swallowed hard and he moved quickly, dragging her across the room to the couch and pushing her down hard. The back of her neck hit a hard part on the couch, and she gasped in pain as he forced a knee between her legs, pinning her into place.

"No!" She screamed the word at him, tears of hatred burning her eyes. This was _not_ going to happen again; she refused to become a victim again. This wasn't why she had orchestrated this plan, and it sure as hell wasn't going to end this way. "Do not fucking touch me!"

"Shut up, girl." His voice was surprisingly calm, and it sent chills up her spine. She shuddered, moving quickly and glancing at her surroundings suddenly, looking for something to ward him off with. She tried to reach for a fireplace poker, but it was too far away and she needed to grab it before he realized what she was doing.

His fingers were pushing her skirt up, and she let herself begin to kick furiously, screaming hateful, angry words at him as his hands slid over her thighs. She tried to pull her legs together tight, but he was stronger and forced her apart with his hands, his fingernails digging so deep into the tender flesh of her inner thigh that she cried out in pain.

"No," she felt the deep sob of the word beginning low in her throat and slipping out as a whine. "Please, no." She was desperate now, glancing around quickly, and saw it suddenly. A vase; her mother's favorite glass vase, the one she had bought in Rome, on the _vacation_ she had taken after Amber's father had died.

He leaned in slowly, his mouth finding the base of her neck, placing rough, wet kisses there. Her stomach churned, and she let her hand reach out for the vase, attempting to be as subtle as possible. He suckled on the skin on her neck, and she thought for a moment that she might retch on him, but when her fingertips grazed the crystal vase, she knew this was her moment. She had to incapacitate him. It wasn't part of the plan; this wasn't supposed to be happening yet because she had only been here for what…five minutes? Suddenly, and though it was obviously much too late, all of the foils of her plan became clear. However, she didn't have time to think about that now, and let her fingers slip into the vase. It was heavy in her hand and she raised it, closing her eyes as she prepared to slam it against the back of Chip's head.

He was faster than her, though, and he twisted suddenly, knocking it out of her hand and sending it shattering into millions of pieces on the hard floor. Her breath caught in her throat, and he turned on her quickly.

"Got some kind of ulterior motive, do you, girl?" He sneered the words at her and smacked her in the face suddenly, sending a sharp pain through her. "You tryin' to get rough with me?"

"No," she whimpered suddenly.

"I think you are. I think you're forgettin' that I like to get rough, girl. You wanna get rough? Okay, let's do it." He forced his knee between her legs again, pushing it so harshly against her that it sent a dizzying pain through her. His hand moved up, tangling itself in her blonde hair, yanking hard and causing her to cry out in pain. "Is that rough enough for you?"

She pulled her leg out from beneath his grasp and kicked at him suddenly, the sharp heel of her shoe digging into the flesh of his thigh. He cursed loudly, cried out in pain, and she took the moment to dodge him. He grabbed her wrist, catching her, and swung her around back to the couch, forcing her down and keeping her there with his knee. He tore her high heels off, throwing them across the room.

"Bitch!" He spat the word at her, "You fuckin' bitch." He backhanded her suddenly, and she groaned. It sent her into a brief daze, and by the time the room stopped spinning, she saw something in his hand. The light caught on it, and it gleamed. She felt a hard knot in her stomach suddenly, tears prickling her eyes.

"No!" She found herself pleading suddenly, almost whimpering the words as he moved toward her with the knife. "Oh, God."

He was upon her suddenly, and had pressed the sharp blade against the soft white skin on her neck, just above her windpipe. She sucked in her breath and held it, her blue eyes turning into hateful slits. He grinned at her, pressing the edge of the knife into her throat slightly, though not enough to draw blood. She found herself gasping for breath, and struggling against him, and he left the knife draw down her throat, to a spot on her chest, just below her collar bone.

"You think I won't do it?" He was taunting her now, his eyes dark. She let her eyes glance to the clock. It had barely been seven minutes. Corny would never make it; the police would never get here on time. She'd be dead before any of them ever found her.

She swallowed hard, and felt the knife press into her skin. It was a deafening pain, the feel of him slicing it across her skin, drawing a red ribbon of blood. She screamed suddenly, her adrenaline kicking into full force. The pain, the feel of the thin line of blood trickling down her chest; it was too much. She cried out loudly and found her strength in that moment. Her feet were suddenly alive, and she kicked him as hard as she could just below his ribcage, sending him reeling back, gasping for breath. The knife, its blade glistening with her blood, fell to the ground and she moved quickly, grabbing it up and towering over him suddenly, her eyes glowing with hatred.

She knew, by the force of her kick, and the way he had begun to claw at the ground, that she had knocked the air out of him. Shelley had done that to her once, backstage at the show; pushed her so hard that she'd actually hit her stomach against the back of a chair and had collapsed to the ground. At the time, Amber had been sure she was dying. Now, she knew that this advantage only lasted a few moments, and took a quick second to mop the dripping blood from her breastbone, thoughtlessly wiping it onto her dress.

She took each moment with caution, moved over him suddenly, pressing the knife against the edge of his neck now, glaring at him with nothing but hatred in her eyes. She tried to disassociate herself with this situation, just like she always had when she was around him. It was surreal; the thought of being here, holding this knife to his throat, being in complete and total control of his life.

"I should slit your throat for everything you've done to me," she nodded, suddenly no longer feeling like herself; no longer the terrified victim she had let herself become. She glared at him, "But I don't want your disgusting blood all over my hands."

Her hands were trembling, though she tried not to let on. She pushed the edge of the knife against the rough skin, his eyes wide, watching her, still wheezing for his breath. She curled her lips into a sneer, furrowing her eyebrows and attempting to suppress a frustrated groan. She couldn't do this. She couldn't be a murderer, no matter how much of her he had killed. She didn't _want_ to do this; she didn't want to have to dig that knife into his jugular vein, didn't want to have to be the one responsible for ending another human life. Yes, she wanted Chip dead, but she didn't want to have to do it herself.

She didn't realize that he had used her brief hesitation to his advantage, and that he had already regained his breath by the time she had decided that she could _not_ kill him. She narrowed her eyes again, still clutching the knife tightly in her hand. His foot went out suddenly, kicking her legs out from beneath her. She fell forward suddenly, the weapon slipping from her fingers. Her chin smacked against a coffee table, and she fell back, groaning on the floor. She was sure that her jaw was broken, and could do no more than roll onto her back, her fingers clutching at the hardwood floor helplessly.

He was back in control now, and she saw the knife in his thick fist again. He moved over her, straddling her and all but suffocating her with his weight. His eyes narrowed into dark, hateful slits, and he pressed the knife to her neck again, tracing it teasingly back and forth. He was showing her how he was going to kill her. She had no more strength; the fight had been taken out of her, and the throbbing pain in her face prevented her from even being able to think clearly.

"You know," his gruff voice was speaking suddenly, as he leaned over her, moving the knife, "the funny thing is…I've already had _your_ fuckin' blood all over my hands. And you know what?" He leaned in to her, his face sickeningly close to hers, his lips against her ear, "I liked it."

She wanted to cry suddenly, as she knew her life was coming to an end. Wanted to cry for all of the things she had never gotten to be; all of the dreams she'd never gotten to experience. Wanted to cry for the girl she had lived her life as for the first eighteen years; the one that never given a shit about anyone but herself. The one who had never realized it could be _so_ much worse than a chipped fingernail and a bad hair day.

She wanted to cry for Corny, who would be so disappointed in her, so hurt by her foolish actions. Wanted to cry because she'd never gotten to tell him that she loved him, or that she wanted to be with him forever.

But she couldn't cry. No, she could not. She refused. Because when they came in here, and found her lifeless body, she did _not_ want Corny to see that she had been crying. She wanted him to see that she had fought until there was nothing left, and hadn't abandoned her beliefs. She had _not_ let herself fall victim to Chip again, even if he took her life.

She raised her hand in one last, pathetic attempt to fight him off. He chortled maliciously above her, letting the knife push against her harder. He was taunting her now, teasing her with death.

She let her head fall to the side, her eyes brimming with the tears that she refused to let escape. From her place on the floor, she saw the front door open silently, and a pair of slender legs. She furrowed her eyebrows, letting her eyes trace up the legs her breath catching in her throat at the sight of her mother, brandishing a small hand gun. If only for the briefest second, their eyes met. Amber let herself gasp softly at the shock of seeing her mother, and though she assumed Velma was just as surprised to see her, there was no emotion in Velma's eyes. She only glanced at Amber for a moment, and then back at Chip.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion. She watched as her mother's slender finger went crooked, pulling the trigger and sending the bullet directly into Chip's side. He screamed suddenly, falling off Amber and onto the floor. She was too afraid to move, though of what, she wasn't completely sure. There was a loud clatter suddenly and Amber realized that Velma had dropped the gun, its barrel still smoking. She felt the heavy sob rising in her throat and kicked away from him, scattering to her feet quickly and racing across the room, only to collapse into a sobbing heap somewhere behind the couch, curling her legs under her and weeping hysterically.

She watched Velma from her spot behind the couch, but her mother seemed to be in a daze. Her blue eyes were wide and unseeing; her thin body was catatonic. Amber felt herself beginning to weep suddenly again, burying her face in her knees and curling into a tight ball.

There was a commotion from beyond the front door suddenly, and Amber knew, without looking, that the police had finally arrived. They began to yell in loud voices that echoed through the room, and she crawled from behind the couch, scrambling to her feet when she saw Corny. She rushed to him without hesitation, and he caught her, sweeping her into a tight hug. She sobbed against him, her fingers clutching at his shoulders, crying his name, sobbing incomprehensible words that he didn't even bother to ask her to clarify.

"I'm sorry," his arm gripped her waist, holding her to him, his fingers brushing through her soft hair, "God, Amber, I'm so sorry. They got here as soon as they could! "

"No," she sobbed against him, clutching to his neck. She didn't want to see the scene behind her. Didn't want to know if Chip was alive, or dead. Didn't want to know if her mother would go to jail for what she'd done. All she wanted right now was Corny's embrace, his love, him.

"I shouldn't have let you come here," he whispered against her ear, "I'm not leaving you again, Amber. I'm not."

She clutched to him like a child, memorizing everything about him suddenly. The way he smelled; she took a deep breath of him, as if it were her last. She held herself to him desperately, and he held her, his eyes still surveying the scene, hers clenched shut and buried against the nape of his neck.

He pried her away from him suddenly, and she began to cry softly. He looked at her, and the gaping wound that Chip had created on her with the knife. She was trembling, and he looked at her seriously.

"We have to get you to the hospital, Amber. You need stitches, and you need to be examined."

She nodded, shivering, and clung to him again, her arms wrapping tightly around her neck.

"Come with me," she pleaded into his ear, "Please, Corny."

"Shh, I will." He rubbed small circles on her back, "Don't worry, baby, of course I will."

The police officers, their faces blurred by tears and sheer exhaustion, informed her that an ambulance was on its way, and she heard the whine of sirens just seconds later. Corny helped her across the room, his arms wrapped tightly around her thin waist. She let herself glance at Velma, who was standing beside one of the officers, her face still deadpanned.

Amber called out to her as Corny began to usher her out the front door.

"Mother…" she said the words, her lips trembling as tears slipped down her face, "How did you know?"

Velma rolled her eyes casually at Amber; as if this weren't a crime scene, as if her fingerprints weren't on the possible murder weapon.

"I didn't _know _anything. He disgraced us, Amber. He made us look like fools. That's all I need to know."

And that was it; as if those words explained everything, Velma turned her head, and shut herself off again from Amber.

Corny helped her to the ambulance and she was moved inside by the paramedics. Corny took her hand, kissing the back of it gently. They rode silently to the hospital, Amber quivering against him, unwilling to let go.

She was suddenly so thankful; to be alive, to be with Corny, to know that he wanted to keep her safe, protect her. She couldn't stop the tears from slipping down her cheeks, even long after the doctors had stitched the laceration on her chest. Long after the pain had faded, and the initial shock of the entire evening, the past several months.

There was one thought she couldn't stop rehashing in her brain; one thing that she kept asking telling herself, over and over. Her mother, the woman who had never treated her like a daughter, who had never so much as kissed or hugged her; the person who had called her a liar when she'd tried to tell her about Chip, this same woman had just done something completely out of character.

Without even realizing it, Velma had, quite literally, saved Amber's life.


	24. Beginning

**Ahhhh!!!!! I can't believe it! I honestly didn't know if I'd ever finish this story, and oh my God, it's been SUCH a ride. Wow. I really, really hope you all have enjoyed reading this. I hope that you became just as connected to the characters as I have. I hope you're all happy with the ending, and I thank you all SO much for the awesome reviews, and the amazing, amazing compliments and support I've had for this story. All of you are the reason I keep writing. I think I might cry now; this story is so close to my heart that it's probably not even healthy. Anyway, please enjoy.**

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The days began to pass in a blur, one after the other, and they soon found themselves at the end of spring. The streets were covered by the fallen petals of cherry blossoms, and it left Baltimore in the aftermath of a hurricane of foliage. The flowers were the lightest pink anyone could imagine; the very color of the room Corny had painted for her so many months ago. She would let her fingers pick the delicate leaflets from the ground, brushing her fingers over their soft interiors. They reminded her of his face; his smooth, soft cheek, the one she had spent so many countless nights staring at as he rested beside her in his bed. 

It was surreal now; all of this, and the life she'd decided to leave behind. The black gown as it brushed her ankles, the slightly tilted cap that Corny had helped her straighten over her golden hair; none of it seemed real. It seemed anti-climactic, maybe even somewhat unsatisfactory that, despite everything she'd been through, she was just now reaching this stage in her life. Despite the fact that she'd become an adult much sooner than she would have preferred, she had _just now_ graduated high school. Only moments ago, she had been officially separated from anything that was holding her back; anything that had been keeping her here in Baltimore. At least that was how Corny saw it, and she knew it.

She couldn't help but glance around at the students who sat surrounding her during the graduation ceremony. She couldn't help but wonder if any of them had the tragic kind of fairy tale that she had; if any of them had been hiding such unbelievable pain. If any of them had just been stronger than she had. The way they smiled and laughed, the way they joked and rolled their eyes through the ceremony told her that they weren't quite as grateful as she was to be here right now. Not necessarily _here_, in this gym that served as a make-shift auditorium, but alive whatsoever. She sat with a quiet reservation throughout the ceremony, and when each of them had been handed their diplomas and declared high school graduates, she found her feet and shuffled back to Corny. Each student had been allowed four reserved seats for family members to attend. Amber had only asked one person to share the moment with her, and had ended up giving the other three seats to Tammy, who had a large family visiting from out west. No one had bothered to ask where her family was; they already knew. They knew that Velma had left Baltimore months ago. She'd claimed self-defense that night, and had somehow gotten away with the defense. And though she'd saved Amber's life, there was nothing else to be said between them. They knew of the man that she had shot; a burly, black-haired man named Chip who ended up being sent to prison for a plethora of things, including embezzling money from a company he hadn't even worked for, but claimed to. They knew that he might have had something to do with the bruises that had once been displayed on Velma and Amber's faces, but they didn't know the half of it. Unlike Amber, they didn't know that he was serving twenty-five years to life for rape, and not just her, but girls before her. Girls that had belonged to stupid, vain mothers like her own. Girls that lived away from Baltimore, and had been too afraid, too unsure of themselves to have the courage to fight him. Girls that Amber could certainly empathize with, and that she hoped would feel better knowing he would spend at least the better part of the rest of his life rotting in a jail cell.

He grinned as he saw her, though there was a certain sadness in his eyes that she couldn't exactly recognize. He brushed his fingers down the shoulder that rested beneath the silky black robe, and then shifted the cap on her head again. She rolled her eyes playfully at him, tugging the hat from her hair and tossing it onto his unoccupied chair.

"You did it." His words had a different connotation to them, she knew. Anyone else would assume that he was simply congratulating her for the accomplishment of graduating high school, but they both knew better than that.

"I wouldn't have without you." Her words were true, and he smiled softly at her, reaching for her arm. She bent to grab her abandoned hat, and led him up the aisle, walking slowly alongside him.

"This is the last time you'll ever be here," he reminded her gently, "aren't you going to say goodbye?" He studied her face as they walked, and she shook her head softly.

"No. I gave up on this life a long time ago, Corny. I'll see Link, and Tracy. I don't need school to be friends with them."

They walked silently out of the building, and she turned to him as they reached the sidewalk, her arm still linked with his. She shot a soft smile at him, and tilted her head slightly, her tongue dancing along her bottom lip.

"Thank you." She swallowed hard, but forced herself to keep her gaze locked on him, "For everything."

He nodded, dipping his head, their feet still moving slowly over the sidewalk. She took a deep breath of the warm air, and unconsciously held his arm tighter.

"You're welcome, Amber. You know that."

"I know." She felt tears burning her eyes as she looked away from him. The sun was beginning to set, and pink and purple splashes of light had left the sky streaked a rainbow of colors. She blinked suddenly, pushing away the tears before speaking again. "You're the best friend I've ever had, Corny."

There was a silence between them, and he cleared his throat, looking away from her. She tried to think of something, anything else to fill this sudden void between them. He stopped walking finally, and turned to her, brushing her hair behind her ear.

"You're mine too, Amber."

She felt herself blushing slightly, and let herself grin at him.

"I bet you never thought you'd say that to me," she teased him lightly, and he arched an eyebrow at her, smiling softly.

"Well, you've grown up a lot over the past year." She laughed softly; though not out of humor, merely out of irony. She studied his face for a moment, her eyebrows furrowing slightly.

"What's wrong?" Her voice was soft, and she let the corners of her mouth turn into a soft frown, her fingers tracing over the sleeves of his suit jacket. "You look sad."

He shot her a sideways glance, then shook his head.

"No. No, I'm fine. I'm happy for you."

She watched him swallow hard, and then pulled him forward, their feet moving on the sidewalk again. She didn't know what to do, or to say. She knew what he was thinking, though, and the thought of it made her want to cry. How could she say goodbye to the one person who had sacrificed so much for her; the one who had put her life in front of his own too many times to count?

"You know, because of you, I've saved enough money for at least a year's worth of rent." She looked expectantly toward him.

He smirked slightly.

"That's your money, Amber. I didn't have anything to do with it."

"No, you did," she corrected him gently, "I would have never had the strength to do…any of this without your support. You know that, don't you?" She let her eyes move to his, and felt the familiar sting of tears. "Corny, you're the only person that has helped make me who I am right now, and who I will be on my own."

He let a hand run down her back soothingly, his eyes scraping the ground suddenly. She cleared her throat, and looked at him, her eyes large and blue.

"My entire life, I've been waiting for the day I could escape from this place. Since Chip got here, I've been making plans, telling myself that as soon as I graduated high school, I was going to run, and never look back." She kept her gaze steady on his.

"That's a good plan." He nodded the words, his voice low and unconvincing, "You should escape, then."

She shook her head slightly, moving to stand in front of him, causing them to pause on the sidewalk again.

"I'm finished running." Her voice was low, but firm. "I've faced my worst nightmare. He's in prison now. There's nothing else to be afraid of."

He watched her unsurely.

"There's so many bad reasons for you to stay here; all those memories, the ignorant people." His eyes were full of fear; seeking the confirmation that she so desperately wanted to give him.

"Maybe," she nodded gently, "but there's one reason I could never leave." She chewed on her lip, pushing the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. "You."

He watched her silently, and she let her fingers move up his cheek, tilting his head down just enough for her to brush her lips over his. It was the first time she'd done it since that original kiss, and she suddenly kissed him passionately, with the vigor that she had been sure she'd never have again. Her mouth was so hungry, so desperately in need of his that it actually caused her physical pain to be away from him. She felt his hand move around to her back, his fingers pressing lightly against her spine, and suddenly, he was returning the kiss. His lips pressing against hers; tasting her, wanting her, needing her. It was exactly what she'd wanted that first time, but now, she was glad he had waited. She was glad he had controlled himself until this exact moment, because now she could remember this perfectly as their first actual kiss. The first time he allowed himself to open up to her; the first time she realized that she was ready, and unafraid, to be with him.

He was the first one to break the kiss, and hugged her to his chest tightly, burying his face in her sweet-smelling hair, kissing the crown of her head and hugging her to him like she was a life-saving raft in the middle of a stormy ocean. Unbeknownst to him, that's exactly what he was to her.

"Stay with me, please." His voice was low and quiet, and the words fell upon her ears. She nodded in his embrace, her fingers curling around his biceps. "God, Amber, I don't know who I'd be without you here."

She shook her head, gentle tears beginning to escape her eyes.

"Just because you've given me the strength to leave, doesn't mean I'm going to. I can't…I can't leave you."

He held her that way for another moment, and then pulled her back, his thumbs wiping away the tears on her cheeks. He leaned in, kissing her lips gently, the tip of her nose, her eyes, her cheeks. She closed her eyes and snuggled into his chest, his chin resting upon the top of her head.

"I love you, Amber," he whispered the words into the soft blonde hair, his lips brushing her scalp.

It was the first time she'd ever heard those words.

"I love you, too," her breath nearly caught in her throat as she murmured the response.

It was the first time she'd ever meant those words.

And after everything she'd been through, it became suddenly evident to her. The day she had met Chip, the day he had begun his sadistic games with her, had actually been the end of a life; the end of the life of the girl she'd let herself become.

That Amber Von Tussle had died in spirit, not in body. But _this_ Amber Von Tussle, this new one that had risen from the ashes, her life had just begun.


End file.
